Soldier 642
by CrashingPetals
Summary: It's the year 2407 and the earth is a post-apocalyptic hell, filled with Disease ridden mutants, filtered sunlight, and war. Gwen's job is to kill mutants. Her other job is to stay alive. Love has nothing to do with it…until she ends up in Narnia and meets a certain High King. Post-Apocalyptic. Peter/OC.
1. Lt Colonel of Sub Unit 16

**_Soldier 642_**

_**By**: CrashingPetals_

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Narnia, Peter Pevensie, or even Edmund. Gasdfhwjenfsmdf I only wish I did D| I also don't own Fallout: New Vegas, by Bethesda Softworks, to which this story has been based off of!_

_**Warnings**: Language, some blood and gore, and possible intimacy in later chapters. Rating is T for now but may change to M at the second story arc._

_**Full summary**: It's the year 2407 and the earth is a post-apocalyptic hell, filled with Disease ridden mutants, filtered sunlight, and war. So when Gwen stumbles into a world found only in legend, with grass and no Disease, she thinks she might be going insane. And everyone around her thinks similarly until her fate is saved by none other than the Great Lion himself. But what reason could Aslan have for bringing her here? And why did the High King of this fairy tale land have to be so ridiculously handsome?_

_**Author's Note**: Before you start reading, I want to welcome you to my story! I started writing it as an original story, but somehow Peter got intermingled with it and made it into a Narnia fic. That attention whore. :D The story is basically my version of Fallout: New Vegas, in that it's post-apocalyptic and has guns, warfare, and much awesomeness. Most of the plotline will take place in Narnia, however, since it's a Peter/OC fic._

* * *

**Prologue**

It was midnight when the first killing happened. The best time of day to have a murder was during the later hours, of course, and so this knowledge did little to trouble the soldiers in Unit 73. 'Murder' could even be too strong a word anyway, since the beings that were killed was hardly human in the first place.

"God damn monsters," came the muttered cuss of Soldier 598. He quickly shoved a fresh round of ammo into his sniper rifle and set up, fingers caressing cold metal as he narrowed his eyes. Below on the rafters, the machine guns rattled off set after set of rounds.

Gwen shot a glance at her partner and took a drag from her dying cigarette. The muttered sentiment was felt quite clearly between them, and also every other soldier in the unit. They'd been fighting for almost four entire days and it was damned hard to see those mutant bastards in the dark.

The woman shoved her cigarette against stone and turned back to her gun, setting the barrel of it up against the block and peering into the scope. Immediately, a new world opened up to her, and it wasn't pretty.

These mutants used to be human, until they got contracted with the Disease. Now, they hardly had any semblance of humanity left. Despite walking on two legs and having most of the organs that Gwen herself had, the mutants were grayish and burnt and made horrid, bloody squalls wherever they went.

"You can say that again," Gwen muttered darkly, aiming for a head shot and then executing the move a second later. Her precision could only come from years of fast shooting and the technical know-how of weapons.

Beside her, her partner scoffed and said, "God _damn_ monsters." And they shared a small, slightly inappropriate smile that had more to do with their past exploits than the monsters below.

"Got a feeling the night's not half over yet," Gwen said, slightly louder so as to overcome the noise of a few more machine torrents. Her gut was usually right on track, and it was moments like these that tested out her assumptions. These moments, which were filled with the uncomfortable feeling of death and decay and blood; these moments, when she was forced to lay sprawled out on the stone cold ground, freezing and killing and saving; these moments, which made up her entire life.

Because this was the year 2407, and the earth was a post-apocalyptic _hell_.

* * *

**Chapter One**

** Status: **_Demoralized_

**Mission:**_ Behind wires, undercover annihilation_

**Sent to:**_ Sniper Sub-Unit 16, Lt. Colonel Soldier 642 through infantry sniper Soldiers 598, 357, 1092, 378, 457-459, 841, 859_

**Status of Mission: **_Unavailable_

_::::_

"Gwen…Gwen! Wake the fuck up."

A shove to the stomach did the trick, and the woman keeled over as the recent food she'd eaten boiled within her, threatening to leave. She groaned a rather pitiful groan and then opened two fiery green eyes, sending a halfhearted glare at the man who had chosen so boldly to wake her.

"What…what do you want, Ethan? I was sleeping…" the first sleep in four days, interrupted. He oughta be hung up and _flayed_.

Her partner, Soldier 598, otherwise known as Ethan, gave her a brittle grin and tossed her a can of 'breakfast'. It was revolting food, if you could even call it that, but it was all they had in the storerooms and was edible, so no one could really complain.

"General Six wants to see you immediately. Something about a new Special Ops mission. You should probably get goin'."

Gwen heaved herself up and sighed, sitting on the frayed cot that she called her own and tearing open the can of food with the small knife she kept in her boot. For General Six to specifically request her, it had to be important. So she devoured a section of her haphazard meal and pulled on her combat boots, lacing them up with deft fingers before grabbing her beret.

The crimson fabric of the hat denoted her ranking as Lieutenant Colonel of Sub Unit 16. It was an insignia she often ignored simply because the rank meant little to nothing besides the fact that it gave her control of about 10 snipers. But she figured that General Six would probably want to see her in full uniform, so she shoved it onto her head and was on her feet a moment later, dragging the sleep from her eyes and finishing the can of sodden 'food' before darting to the door.

"I'll be seeing you after, then," Gwen said, watching Ethan for a moment as he curled up in his own cot. He waved her off and she grunted, hand twitching toward her upper thigh to double check that her back up revolver remained latched there. And then she was off.

The short distance it took to reach her destination answered a few of Gwen's questions regarding the causalities of the night before. More medical tents had risen up during the earlier hours of the morning and medical assistants were hurrying here and there to treat their patients. There were limited supplies, however, and many doctors had turned to medieval methods to try and preserve as many lives as possible as they waited for the supply caravan to arrive. Unfortunately, the caravan was already delayed by two days and wasn't expected until that evening.

Gwen frowned at the sight of her fallen comrades but didn't linger. General Six was forgiving but could be cold and strict if he had to wait. He was a busy man, after all. He was in charge of the entire Unit 73, and the multiple Sub-Units that were a part of it. It was a big job and often left him cranky.

It took a total of ten minutes to walk from one side of the camp to the next, but as the General's tent was somewhere in the center of it, it took Gwen less than that. She arrived, a little breathless but intact, and General Six overlooked the haphazard state of her apparel. No one on the battlefield ever looked like the polished soldiers that posed for the pro-war posters, after all.

"Lieutenant, come in. I shall ignore the fact that you are late and get right down to the point." He gave her a pointed look. General Six was one of many Generals that commanded the countless Units in the field, and he looked every bit the part. He was built and had bulging muscles, with short cropped hair and tanned, dark skin from spending many hours in the blazing sun. He was tall and wore his uniform proudly, if not a little raggedly. He'd been a General for almost five years and wasn't able to acquire new General uniforms often, simply because the camp had more important interests.

"I have a new Special Op mission for your company. I have the plans written down for your perusal, and I'm sure I don't have to go over the policy regarding them to you?" He didn't wait for an answer and plowed right on, hands behind his back and shoulders squared, "Listen closely, I'll only say this once. You'll be taking half of your company out into the right lines and will be stationed near the forest for the next two days. There's been an outbreak of those blasted mutants there and I want you to dispose of them before they become a problem."

So this was a fairly big deal. Any mission that had to do with going behind the wires was big. She nodded and said, "Permission to speak, sir?" in a voice devoid of the wariness and exhaustion the rest of her body felt. The General nodded stoutly and waited.

"Will my men be able to receive the necessary medical field equipment in time?"

The question had an interesting and unfortunate effect on the General, and Gwen knew somehow what his answer would be before he gave it. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm afraid the supplies are running dangerously low at the moment, Soldier. You'll have to ask Doc about that yourself, as I have no control over what materials you're given on the field. You may have to make due with a couple of low-grade cases."

Low-grade. The outlook of this mission was already turning sour for Gwen, and it hadn't even begun. What good would a couple of low-grade med boxes do for her? If one of her men contracted the Disease, no amount of medicine from a low-grade kit would save him. The only thing to do then would be to shove a bullet down his throat.

But still, she knew that there was nothing to do about it. She'd ask the Doc just in case, but she highly doubted he'd be able to spare her any of the good stuff. The high-grade cases were set aside for the most injured, and Gwen's company would be long gone by the time the new supplies arrived, if they even came at all.

"Sir," she saluted, agitated but not overwhelmingly so. The General nodded and dismissed her, watching her exit. It would be a rough few days, but Gwen could handle it. It was why he made her Lieutenant Colonel after all, and it was why he chose her company for this mission.

The trust he had in her was unparalleled.

::::

"Behind wires?" Ethan wondered idly as he stuffed cans of 'food' into a canvas duffle bag. Gwen hummed in response but didn't spare him a glance, because she was too preoccupied with her maps to be bothered. She'd only been behind wires a few times in the past, for various other Special Op missions. But this was the first time she would have to cross The Divide, a bride built over a canyon that marked the last outpost of Unit 73's command.

Her fingers slid over to the right lines, where a block of forest would make for decent cover. She was a bit of a strategist, which was one reason she acquired the rank of Lt. Colonel. If her company brought wire and rope, they could rope off one end of the forest that faced mutants, and set traps for them in the undergrowth. The traps would give them enough of a warning to be ready for an attack, at least. Though the plan was haphazard at best, Gwen knew she had to come up with something to ward off rogue mutants. Going behind wires was dangerous, but going so far with only half a company was beyond suicidal. She really wasn't sure what General Six was thinking.

Ethan peered over her shoulder as he leaned against the table. He was close beside her but she didn't mind. If he had a solution to their problem, it would be well worth the invasion of space.

"Roping the forest? Not a bad plan, but what if the mutants come in from the other direction? Then _we'd_ be the trapped ones."

Gwen groaned and muttered, "Yes, I know. But we'll just have to count on their stupidity. Do you have any other ideas?"

He brooded over her shoulder for a long moment before actually speaking. His finger pushed over an area of the canyon that rose up above the rest. "We could hold them off indefinitely here. The only problem is how to get there safely. It's a long trek across a flat plain."

"Mmm. That's why I looked to the forest. At least there we could have the cover of the trees and we could surprise them."

Ethan nodded slowly, but Gwen could see that he was still thinking of the small mountain terrain. It was a better post, of course. The high altitude was perfect for a team of snipers. They'd be able to see the mutants coming from miles away. But getting there, that was the problem. Because the mutants would be able to see them from miles away, too.

"What if…what if one of us goes on ahead - "

"No. Too dangerous," Gwen said immediately, turning away from him to pore over the map again. She knew what his words were going to be because she'd thought of that plan already, and she also knew who Ethan would want to send. She couldn't bear losing him if something went wrong. He was the only one who really knew her as Gwen, not just Lt. Colonel or Soldier 642.

He sighed, "Come on, Gwen, you know it's our best chance. Those mutants are a hell of a lot smarter than you give them credit for. You think they won't smell your trap from a mile away? This mountain is our best bet."

It was true. Gwen knew this. But she didn't want to admit that he was right. So many things had the potential to go wrong on their way to the mountain that it was impossible for her to agree with this plan, as golden as it was. Even if Ethan managed to get up to the top of the mountain without being seen, there was still the fact that one sniper couldn't hold off innumerous mutants for long enough to get them to safety. Unless…unless that sniper was both well qualified and ready to risk his life. Ethan was both these things, but so was she.

Gwen squared her shoulders and looked at her Captain. He looked back. And then he realized where her thoughts were headed and tried his best to backtrack. "No, no, no, no. There's no way, Gwen. You have to lead your men. I'm a lower ranking and therefore it would be smarter to send - "

"Silence, Captain. As you said, you're a lower rank than me. I make the decisions. Go back and finish getting ready."

It was a low blow and they both knew it. Gwen rarely used the rank card when it came to Ethan. In another world, they would have been best friends. To use tactics as underhanded as the one she'd just used would have been unforgivable in other circumstances.

Ethan straightened immediately, jaw clenched and brain working overtime as he stared at her. His brooding expression made her equally uneasy, but she couldn't take her words back and she didn't really want to anyway. If she could save him then it would be worth it. Even if he remained furious at her for the rest of his life.

She looked away. The sound of Ethan's heavy footsteps melted away with the rest of her worries.

::::

A stony silence quivered over the company as they prepared to head out. An hour before, Gwen had attempted to sweet talk the Doctor into giving them at least one high-grade medical box. He had wanted to, but all she ended up getting was five low-grade kits and a couple of containers of medium-strength ointment for cuts. Even then, she couldn't get angry at him. It wasn't his fault that the supply caravan was late. It wasn't his fault that there were endless patients suffering blindly in their cots right at this moment. So Gwen had given him a tired smile and accepted what he offered, clapped her hand on his shoulder in a short gesture of thanks, and had gone off to pack the supplies with the other scattered medical equipment.

When she had returned to the wires, the rest of the company were waiting for her as requested. They were fitted in their camouflage tan outfits with small duffel bags hanging from each shoulder. Their belts were ridden with back up weapons and spare ammunition. On their backs, their sniper rifles were strapped with cords of rope and canvas. It was a sorry lot.

Ethan stood at the front, similarly dressed and looking just as brooding as he had that morning. She was tempted to go up to him and apologize somehow, but her pride was also a sorry thing and she couldn't bring herself to. So instead, she just ground her teeth together, kept her expression vague, and went to stand in front of the small company.

General Six was watching their departure from across the way, standing with his second in command, an older military man who looked rather like a mirror image of the General himself except with grayer hair. Gwen gave the General a short nod that was returned briefly, turned away from the company, and began to lead the somber march that, with every step, took the men farther and farther away from safety.

As soon as the camp was out of their sight, about half a mile later, the company broke up and fled into Formation 0. It wouldn't do, after all, to have the entire company flocked together and just waiting to be taken out by a couple of mutant gunmen. Instead, they found whatever cover available and began the harsh descent into enemy territory. They had no trouble at all when they reached the last outpost by The Divide. The drop of the canyon symbolized the last shred of their safety, however, and they crossed slowly, one man at a time, counting their steps until the sense of bitter isolation lulled them into silence.

And the silence was steadfast until they made camp later that night, cold because lighting a fire was suicide, damp because it had rained earlier that morning, and miserable because they were out in the open.

Cans of food were passed around as they huddled together beneath the cropping of a rock formation. Their supplies were small but so was their regulated time for the mission itself, so they feasted on the food without much thought of preserving it. Gwen sat down beside Ethan, though he still hadn't spoken a word to her since that morning, and ate with him in that familiar stony silence. The scraping of metal and the hushed whispers of the men and women was all that could be heard.

"I know what you're planning."

Gwen started a little at the suddenness of Ethan's words, but held her tongue. She slowly looked over at her partner, musing over his so called knowledge of her plans and wondering if he really was catching on. She reckoned he was, by the way he was staring confidently back. With a slight sigh of defeat, she wondered, "Alright, then. What is it I'm planning, if you know so much?"

Ethan poked his knife into the can and stabbed a bit of pear. He took a slow bite before bothering to answer, but when he did he was right on. "You'll be slipping off tonight under the cover of darkness. We made good ground today and we're almost at the mountain, so you'll be wanting to go as soon as possible. You'll make me in charge of the company until we're safe and sound atop that blasted cliff."

Damn him for being so perceptive. Gwen threw a well used glower at him and scoffed, poking around in her can as well to avoid answering. But her silence was just as good for Ethan, and he gave her a triumphant snort that had her anger expanding.

"You're not going to warn the men, then," he said, his words forming a statement rather than a question. He knew Gwen like the back of his hand, knew her mind and how it worked, and how her sense of pride and dignity always rooted her to her decisions. She was going to leave and was probably going to get herself killed without backup. But he knew better than to plead with her. He was still full of resentment from their argument before.

"No point," Gwen muttered, eyes looking over the clearing. Some of the snipers were rolling out their beds, some were already in them. There wasn't any sense in telling them what her plan entailed. They'd be fine without her anyway. Ethan would probably make a better Lieutenant and she was fine with that if she found her death out there in the wilderness.

"You'll keep first watch?" she wondered, turning to him and wishing they didn't have to part when they were fighting. He stared at her, pushing his empty can onto the ground beside him and sighed. A few reluctant moments later, he opened his arms and she found herself surrounded by warmth.

"Just go to sleep, Soldier 642. I'll wake you up in an hour, I promise."

Gwen sighed and snuggled farther into his arms, pressing her face against the chest of the man she trusted with her life. Her voice was soft when she next spoke, surrounded by a gentle sadness that she rarely allowed Ethan to hear. "Goodnight, Soldier 598."

And then she was gone.

::::

The sound of a gunfire was what ultimately woke Gwen up, not the peaceful shake of Ethan or the whispered words she'd expected to hear.

She jerked into a sitting position, her brain fuzzy and cloudy and confused. It took her three long seconds to realize that it was morning, Ethan hadn't woken her up, and her men were being attacked by a squad of mutants. It took her a whole second more to realize that Ethan wasn't even there at all, and then her mind flattened out the surprise and the bitter feeling of betrayal as she turned to her gun.

She was much too close to her prey to utilize her sniper rifle, so instead Gwen reached behind her and pulled out her revolver. The small gun was handy in tight situations, but she knew before she'd fired the first bullet that this wasn't just a tight situation.

A quick diagnosis of the camp told her that her men were outnumbered 2 to 1, and that the mutants had the obvious advantage of a surprise attack. Her men were clumsy and tired, having been so abruptly pulled from their sleep, and they had to refer to their smaller handguns, which they weren't used to. It was going to be something of a bloodbath.

"Damn it!" she cussed, frowning deeply as she shot a bullet into a mutant's back. The thing collapsed but continued to twitch, it's limbs restlessly trying to grapple onto it's fallen gun. That was the problem with mutants: they were so God damned hard to kill. Especially up close.

Her mind was ablaze with strategy after strategy. Each one that popped into her head either took too long or required more resources than they had. Their only option was retreat, but how could they when the mutant bastards were on them like this?

"Lt. Colonel! Do we have a plan?!" one of her men yelled nearby. His voice was both hard and soft; confused and a little afraid, but battle-ready. He was one of her sharpshooters, one of the best on her squad, second only to Ethan when it came to blowing off a mutant head from a half mile range.

Gwen gritted her teeth and swung her revolver down, scrabbling at her ammunition as she struggled to reload. It took her a second longer than normal. "Stay alive, how's that?!" she yelled back, raising her gun back into the air and sending off another round.

His response was firing a 12.7mm round into a mutant who was creeping up on her.

"We have to get out of here or we'll be gunned down," he panted, sidling over to her as she shot him a thankful half-grin.

"We'll be gunned down anyway," Gwen muttered a little hopelessly. If Ethan was here…damn it. If he was here they'd still be in this impossible situation. His presence wouldn't have made a huge impact on their success, but she'd have really liked to be fighting by his side right about now.

Soldier 378 stared at her, his eyes unyielding and determined. Her best sniper was planning something, something suicidal. She could see it in his eyes, in his mannerisms, in the way he was leaning a little bit away from her, as though he was going to -

"NO!" she tried to stop him, but her fingers could only scrabble uselessly at his sleeve before it was ripped away.

"Get the hell out of here! Go now!" was all Soldier 378 yelled, before he was running away, trying to cause a distraction that ultimately gave them only a few seconds. A few seconds that Sub-Unit 16 ultimately took advantage of.

As a mutant bullet punctured Soldier 378's chest, Gwen found herself throwing herself toward the drop of the hill they'd been perched on. Her body stung as it fell over sharp rocks.

"This way! This way!" Gwen shouted, ushering as many men as she could toward the bottom of a hill drop. They jumped down it, rolling over the harsh terrain and then throwing themselves behind rocks as soon as they reached the bottom. It didn't work very well. The mutants were able to sink bullets into many of her men before they'd even reached the drop of the hill. Most of the men were dead before they reached the bottom. Most of the ones alive were heavily injured.

But none had contracted the Disease. Gwen would have immediately known if they had, because the effects were immediate and unrestrained.

"Lt. Colonel, you're bleeding!"

Gwen looked down at her arm, where a dull pain had sprouted against her skin. The tan of her uniform was, indeed, splattered with sharp red. And there was red pooling down her face as well, sinking into her eyes and making them burn. She wiped the blood away and pulled out her revolver again, "Who cares? They're coming."

They were. The mutants were generally slow to think, their brains were rotted from the Disease. But by then they'd realized where the rest of Gwen's squad had gone, and they were ambling down the hillside trying to get to them.

"Lt. Colonel-"

She pressed down the trigger and fired a bullet, but even though she watched a mutant receive the attack, the sound of the bullet's release didn't reach her ears. In fact, the world was almost dulled down, the noise blanketed over like the silencer on her sniper. She saw her men shooting, but Gwen couldn't hear. And then, she couldn't see. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Was consumed by a strange, surreal sort of darkness that must have come from the head wound that was suddenly pounding against her skull.

"Lt. Colonel!"

Lt. Colonel.

_Lt. Colonel…_

Darkness.

* * *

_Let me know how it is! The next chapter will have the Pevensie's and Narnia and all that good stuff :D_


	2. From a Legend

**Soldier 642**

**By: **_CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Full Status: **_POW, wound to the shoulder and head, no weapons, no food, no rest. Possible head injuries sustained. Hallucination._

**Mission: **_Incomplete_

**Complete Casualties: **_Unavailable_

**Current Location: **_Unknown_

**Full Diagnosis of current situation: **_Hallucination. Seem to be in some sort of dreamscape. Mutant chemicals? …I saw grass. _Grass_._

_::::_

**POV**: Narnia

The light Narnian sun filtered through gossamer curtains. It was morning, and the many rooms of the castle were bathed in such rich atmosphere that it could take one's breath away. Here was a beauty found only in a dream.

Though it was hardly 7 o'clock, the castle was already bustling with activity. Breakfast was being prepared and the kitchens were filled. Dumb Animals outside were being fed, dresses were being tied, and the High King was looking over the massive list of things he had to do that day.

He sighed, listening to his steward rattle on about the forty-odd things on the list. The throne room was unoccupied save for them. King Edmund and the two Queens were absent from it, most likely waiting for Peter in the dining hall. It was a policy that Peter let them get away with, because he couldn't blame them for not wanting to listen to the restricting list. It was giving him a headache and he'd only just woken up.

"Oh, and of course you'll have to save room to see the prisoner we brought in last night. Quite frightening, it is. Was carrying a massive metal contraption that took off the heads of two of our best soldiers! Luckily we disposed of it quickly and turns out without it, the crossbreed monstrosity was no chance." The steward paused to take a breath. Peter sighed and waited for him to continue without missing a beat. "And then you'll have to have Queen Susan pick out the linens to use for the Winter Ball. We have various colors to look at - "

"Edgar. What was that…before…that you mentioned?"

The High King had nearly missed it because of the incessant rattling. But now he was leaning forward in interest, bright blue eyes flashing down at the steward with an interest that had the poor little man stupefied.

"A-Ah, well let's see," he looked down at the very long list. "There was the part about the battle plans and the deer hunt, and the part where King Edmund must speak to his Wolves about the Lantern Waste and the prisoner - "

"That's right! Tell me about this prisoner. I didn't know anyone was brought into the castle last night."

Edgar the Steward stuttered a little and then dove into an explanation that was long winded and uncertain. "W-Well, sire, one of the patrols found it last night, you see sire. We don't know what it is, only that it looks a great deal like a Daughter of Eve. 'Cept we can't be sure because it wears this helmet-like mask and, sire, this thing is surely not human. It carried a long metal weapon but is wasn't a sword, sire! It exploded a few times and killed two men and wounded quite a few more. Dangerous, dangerous."

Peter looked down at the steward with brooding eyes, going over his words carefully. There was really only one thing he could think of that was a metal weapon and unlike anything found in Narnia, and it frightened him.

"Bring me the King and Queens. And then bring me this prisoner."

Because he had to see this for himself.

Gwen was sure she was dreaming. She was sure of this for two main reasons and multiple smaller ones. One, there were no mutants in sight. Two, and possibly most important, she was in a place that was like a fairy tale, right out of the ancient legends.

She hardly remembered how she got there, only that it had something to do with Ethan disobeying her direct orders and then having a stroke of impossibly bad luck. She remembered a rogue mutant attack before dawn had settled and then nothing. She must have taken a blow to her head, because when she woke up she was laying in soft, green _grass_. The likes of which she'd never seen before.

She peered out into the dark aisle of her cell block, where she only just woke up from again, after taking yet another blow to her head. That one was forced: another ambush, hairy half men, metal swords, and then the black nothingness of unconsciousness.

She'd never had a dream quite so realistic before, but perhaps she'd been captured by the mutants and they'd given her sleeping gas or some other lethal compound. For all she knew, her body could be tied up somewhere in a different cell block, light-years away. Anything could happen, she supposed, especially in a legend.

"It's over here?" came a sudden voice and two pairs of footsteps. The voice was grimy, like unpolished steel. Gwen narrowed her eyes but didn't move, intent on showing fearlessness to these strange inhuman beasts. When at last they came into the light, those thoughts only cemented into real belief.

One of them was short, with a very long beard tucked into it's belt. It was wearing a deep purple fabric, but the style of clothing was unlike anything Gwen had ever seen. The color was, too, as the only cloth she'd ever really taken note of was the tan camouflaged one she wore now.

The thing was ugly and looked rather sinister, but it wasn't as ugly as a mutant and so Gwen tried be brave and look it directly in the eye. The other one laughed as a result, but contrary to what Gwen's new expectations were, the sound of it wasn't disgusting.

This other one was just like the beasts that attacked her in the woods after she'd woken up. It was half human, with a bare torso that tapered into furry goat-like legs. The ears were curved delicately like bells, the face just as delicate and, Gwen mused, could almost be considered handsome. If you were into weird half-goat-men, that is.

"Why, you're right about the mask. It's impossible to tell what it is!" the half human beast exclaimed, peering toward her with curious eyes. Gwen narrowed her eyes gaze, though she was sure that they could barely see it. She was, indeed, wearing a masked hood. Such an article of clothing was important when venturing out into the deserted plains, as the sun grew to scorching temperatures before noon. She supposed she didn't need it here, where it was downright _cold_, but the cover made her feel comfortable and braver than she was. This dream was almost a nightmare.

"An ugly thing, I reckon," the shorter bearded one grunted, and began to pull at the keys around his belt. "Probably just as well it's wearing that hood."

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but the half human beast spoke first, "Well, why don't you take the thing off? It's not polite, and the Kings and Queens surely won't appreciate it." The creature leaned in closer and Gwen felt rather like an animal being studied and researched.

She wasn't sure if the beast was speaking to her or not, but it didn't seem likely as the half beast was turning back to the other as if in question. But it didn't get a response until the shorter thing had already procured the right key, and by then, three more creatures had shown up to - probably - act as an escort.

"Can't. The creature seems to have attached it to itself or something. In any case, the High King'll sort it out." And then the short thing was jamming the key into the lock and twisted it, and Gwen was free.

She immediately tried to bolt but somehow she knew it was no use. Though the newcomers were just as short as the little man himself, she was outnumbered five to one. She reckoned her head was still spinning too, from both concussions, because the quick movement of her so called escape made her feel nauseous and confused.

"Steady there," the half beast exclaimed, catching her arm before she could fall. The four other creatures surrounded them and the half beast, who seemed surprisingly kind, helped her walk through the dark hallway.

"Seems to have no concept of balance, either," the short man muttered from the back, and Gwen scowled fiercely though they could not see. Her hood _was_ attached to the rest of her outfit. It had metal rungs connecting the ends of the fabric to the collar of her uniform. It was almost a helmet, of sorts, and it was both intricate and hard to remove. Gwen wasn't surprised that these beasts hadn't figured it out.

The half beast goat _tut_-ed chidingly, "It _was_ knocked unconscious more than a few times while it was being brought in. Have some consideration."

The bearded man only grunted and shot back, "I'll save my consideration for _after_ the creature is sentenced to death. Deserves it, after all. Killed two good men and wounded quite a few more." The thing went on muttering sullenly, but the half goat only sighed as though it felt it was a lost cause.

But Gwen wasn't paying much attention to the strange mannerisms of these odd creatures. The words 'sentenced to death' were shooting around in her head and she couldn't deny the rising fear that they brought with them. She'd heard you couldn't die in dreams. But there was always a chance, a very small chance, that maybe this wasn't actually a dream. She wasn't questioning her sanity, but rather the possibility that she was actually somewhere in a mutant camp being held as hostage. There were rumors of the mutant camps, and of strange chemicals they use on their prisoners to make them hallucinate. What if this wasn't a dream, but rather a hallucination?

That would mean that, if she died here, she died in real life.

Her struggling turned real by the time they'd reached the upper chambers of what could only be a castle. She'd never seen a castle before, much less been inside of one. It was clearer up here, the air was tinged with something that the dungeons hadn't had, a sort of lightness that tasted almost sweet on the tongue. But all Gwen could think about was the king that would sentence her to death for killing two of his men.

It was silent for the rest of the stumbling walk, save for the incessant mutterings of the short man as he trudged along the end of the party. Gwen's own breathing was all she really heard, which came fast and hard in her building anticipation. She doubted the others could hear it due to her hooded mask.

She imagined this king to be a half beast like the one holding her elbow. He would be fat and hairy and would wear a pompous crown atop his head. And he'd look down at her and judge her and sentence her to a death that didn't make any sense. Because she was only _defending_ herself. It was all she really knew how to do; all she understood. To survive, one must be able to pick up a gun and kill.

But when she was dragged into the throne room, whose sudden beauty would have stolen her breath away had it not already been departed, her hastily built expectations crashed to the lovely hewn floor. Because sitting high atop a throne of stone and surrounded by three others was a _man_. _A human man._

And he was the most beautiful, regal, perfect man she'd ever had the fortune to see.

Silence.

"That's…that's him, then?" a dark haired man asked. He was sitting beside the blonde king and wore a crown himself. His face was handsome as well, but in a darker sort of way. His brilliance was more toned down. He stared at Gwen like she was some sort of - wait, did he think she was a man?!

She frowned and glanced at the other two humans, who were women. The men's wives, perhaps? Or partners? But no, there were too many similarities. Must be sisters, then.

"Well, take that strange helmet off of him," the older woman said, raising a perfect eyebrow as she looked down at the scene. Strange helmet? Gwen frowned deeper. How dare she make fun of her uniform! Gwen could say quite a few things about her outfit as well, mainly that it was far too expensive and lovely looking to be considered real or useful.

"How exciting!" the younger woman grinned, leaning forward in her chair. Her hair was a little messy, her dress a little simpler, but she still looked like a queen. A little more friendly, perhaps, but a queen. How strange, to have two kings and two queens…unless they were all princesses and the other a prince?

Gwen frowned deeper. How strange to have a monarchy, she decided. This surely was a dream, a hallucination.

"Apologies, m'Lady," one of her captors bowed. It was the small dwarf-like man. He glanced up at the older woman, but then his eyes went over to the blonde king when he said, "We tried to get the helmet off it's head, but the creature has it attached to itself, your Highness, and we can't - "

"Oh, for Goodness sake," Gwen muttered, and she reached up to fiddle with the iron rungs. They snapped away a second later and she threw her 'helmet' off with no small amount of frustration. "I'm not an 'it', you insufferable idiot, and if you had any brains at all in that thick skull of yours then you'd give me back my sniper rifle so that I can get the fuck out of here and find those _God damned mutants!"_

Her angry eyes settled on the blatantly shocked gaze of the dwarf and watched as he made a small, frightened noise and stumbled back.

"Why, it's a _woman!"_ came the surprised voice of the younger queen, and Gwen's sharp eyes moved to her. "And what awful language you have! I like her already," she whispered, and grinned.

That was when Gwen noticed just how her sudden reveal had shocked the other humans. They were staring at her in surprise, and slight tribulation, as though they weren't quite sure what to make of her.

"You're…you're from Earth, then?" wondered the young queen, her voice loud in the thick silence that had overcome the room. She seemed like the only one with the least bit of common sense.

Gwen raised an eyebrow, a little concerned at her question, "Where else would I be from, Mars? That brings me to a rather important question: _where am I?_ What part of this hallucination is real and what part is transformed by the mutant chemicals?"

"Hallucination? Haha! You're funny, too. But what are these mutants you keep mentioning? They sound a little scary - "

"Enough, Lucy," the blonde man cut in, and Gwen looked over him. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his handsome face dark with questions and worries that undoubtedly concerned her. She raised a flippant brow at him and watched as he gritted his teeth.

"I don't know if you recall this," the king said, his fingers linked together as he leaned forward, "but you've killed two of my men. Have you anything to say about this?"

Gwen stared at him darkly for a moment, but he didn't look away from her. He met her eyes with a fiery gaze of his own, unafraid. "I'm not sure how I got here or if this is a dream. But before I woke up in the grass, I was being attacked by a squad of mutants and I was watching my men get gunned down right before my eyes. So I _do apologize _for killing two of your men, but I was in a very defensive state of mind. That happens when you're suddenly attacked right after waking up in a strange place, you know."

Her behavior didn't seem to help her situation. In fact, it only made the king's eyes darken more fiercely. He frowned and stood up, his fanciful tunic bright against the dull stone of the room. He didn't look at her.

"You'll be returned to the dungeons until we decide what to do with you. Narnian law dictates that every prisoner receives a fair trial. You will be informed when that trial is to take place."

Narnian law? Fair trail?

"You're really giving me a trial?!" she asked, blurting out her words without much thought. The question must have seemed odd to the four humans, for they paused and stared at her in confusion. Gwen laughed, "But you're going to kill me anyway, right? So why bother?" And besides, she hadn't heard of an actual trial taking place in decades. That didn't happen at war, and the war she'd been in had been going since before she'd been born.

The blonde king stared right at her, "It is Narnian law. You are in Narnia, therefore you will be treated as a Narnina prisoner. Guards."

And immediately, the dwarf men and the odd half beast grabbed her arms and pulled her from the room, drawing her away from the legend, the dream, and the hallucination.

* * *

**A/N: **_Sorry it was a bit short! I'm trying to make each chapter 10+ pages in word and I think this one was around 6. Gahsdf. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! :D I'm so excited that people seem to like the story so far. _

_Bronze Cat mentioned the story is a bit distracting with the text centered. Better? :) I'm still trying to figure out format and all that good stuff~_

_Review! _


	3. Fire

**Soldier 642**

**By **_CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Status:**_ Not POW. But still Prisoner._

**Location:**_ Still Unknown_

**Threats:**_ Probability of death by hanging_

**Notes:**_ Seeing grass has become the least of my worries._

_::::_

Nobody knew what to do. A council had immediately taken precedence over the day's schedule. Both the kings and the queens were in attendance, as well as all the generals that were in power.

The day had turned from sunshine and now rain came down in torrents. The water sent dizzying bullets against the windows and added a strange sort of allure to the council room. Candles had been hastily lit though it was only mid-afternoon, and an overall seriousness had descended upon each pallor face. Every eye was fixated upon the two metal explosives on the table.

"It's a gun," Susan murmured, for she had only just entered the room and was shocked to see them laying there, one large and one smaller, bared to the world. "This was on the woman prisoner?" She took her seat quickly, looking a little upset at having the weapon so close, and Lucy reached for her hand.

"Begging your pardon, my Queen, but what is a gun?"

Edmund frowned, "It is used for war."

One of the dwarfs leered at it in suspicion and took a step back. Edmund's words made the atmosphere thicken and curdle.

"The witch has brought a war weapon here, and has killed two of our finest men, and - "

"Do not call her a witch," Peter interrupted, looking solemn but powerful from his seat at the head of the table. "It only gives her power over you to fear her. She is a human girl. A daughter of Eve."

His words caused an even greater ruckus than before. Some voice were surprised, some were not, but everyone had something to say. And it was in the midst of this squalor that the highest king of Narnia found himself walking.

Aslan hadn't shown himself in Cair Paravel for months. He came when he wanted and not particularly when he was needed. He left when he thought he should, which was always sooner than the Pevensies would prefer. There was no warning to his visits or his absences and no promises as to when his next one would be. So it was in great shock that High King Peter stood and welcomed Aslan inside.

"Aslan!"

The room was instantly silenced. Murmurs of 'Aslan is here!' and 'Aslan?' cajoled through the thick, rain-induced quiet. Lucy grinned and stood, moving toward him and throwing her arms around Aslan's mane in greeting.

"Oh, Aslan, I'm so happy you've come! We've just had the most fascinating experience with a girl who - "

"My dear girl," Aslan said, "this council meeting is very pointless and I've come to clear it up. Peter, Edmund, Susan, please come with Lucy and I. We've much to talk about concerning this prisoner of yours."

Peter shared a glance with Edmund and then rose. He addressed the council room shortly, "We will reconvene at a later time. For now you are all dismissed." And then he turned to Aslan and followed his siblings from the room.

When they were quite away from the council room and that part of the castle, Aslan began to talk. His voice was soft and low and cherished as he addressed them, and even softer when he spoke of the girl that had stumbled into Narnia 'in much the same manner as you yourselves'. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you much about her current life on Earth, only that it is very different from your lives, on Earth or in Narnia. Her world is much more advanced than yours was. Everyone carries a weapon because they are at war, and have been for a very long time. Don't be too harsh on her for this. When she killed two Narnians, she really did think that she was being attacked by the creatures she fights in her own world."

Susan wrinkled her nose a little, "Aslan, you should have seen her attire, and her mannerisms! What year is she from, please tell us. I can't believe a young woman could become so…so volatile!"

Aslan chuckled a little. He shook his mane and sighed, deep and low. "You will have to ask her this yourself. I must leave soon and I've one last thing to tell you, of the greatest importance."

The Pevensies looked at Aslan, waiting. The Great Lion turned around to face them. "There is something coming. Something that is more evil than any of you can imagine. You will need Gwen's help if you are to defeat it."

"…Is that all?" Edmund asked, a little desperately. Aslan was always so cryptic. "There must be more!"

Aslan just smiled and nodded, "Of course there is. But that is not for me to tell. Your lives progress as you live. You will have to discover the future for yourselves." And he looked at Peter knowingly, watching a small blush form on the young king's face. It was as if Aslan knew exactly what Peter had been thinking. As though he knew that as soon as he'd said the name 'Gwen', all Peter could think about was furious, twinkling green eyes and the prettiest face he'd seen in years.

The Great Lion gave out a strange, laugh-like noise and then turned away. "Oh, and Lucy," he suddenly said, as if remembering, "your guest is injured. I think she might be more forthcoming with information if you heal the wound in her shoulder, and set her up in a proper room." And with that, the Lion went on his way, leaving the Pevensie's to deal with what would be the beginning of a very difficult trial.

::::

Gwen had no idea what changed the mind of the blonde king, who seemed to have power over the others. She was thankful, though, because another moment in that dark, dank cell would have been hellish. As she was released from her chains and lead away from the dungeons, back to the throne room, she had many questions.

All four monarchs were waiting for her. The youngest, who was by far the most friendly of the rest, leaned forward and gave Gwen a soft, excited smile. The happy expression had Gwen's own gaze momentarily soften before she realized that she had to remain strong, strong enough to stand before a king and to await his judgment.

"You're name is Gwen," was the first thing that the blonde king said. The silence shattered like glass around them and Gwen stared at him in shock, for she hadn't told her name to anyone since waking up in this dream world. Her surprise must have been strongly expressed on her face, because the youngest queen once again smiled widely.

"Peter, you are confusing her," she laughed. The sound was bell-like and lovely, simpering in the barest of ways so that it was somehow beautiful. "Dear Gwen, I would like to introduce myself to you. I am Queen Lucy, the Valiant, and we have learned of your name from a very old and dear friend."

But her words only further confused Gwen, because she couldn't think of who this old and dear friend could be. She stared at the young woman hard, and then jerked her gaze away and instead stared hard at the stone wall. Without even thinking, she easily slipped into the soldier stance that she was so accustomed to, shoulders back and chin level.

She supposed she was being quite rude by not responding, but she was weary from sleeping on stone, and the pain of her head wound and the wound in her shoulder was fiercely burning, aching, pounding at her. She felt faint and clammy, sickly and pale. This hallucination was turning into a nightmare, and she wondered if perhaps she was right about the mutant chemicals all along.

The other king cleared his throat, peering at her with expressive brown eyes. There was a friendliness about him, as well, but it was of another sort than that of the young queen's. This man seemed gentle, softer than the blonde king. When he spoke, his voice also portrayed this quality. "Won't you answer my sister? Will you give us your full name, and your background? We mean you no harm. You will be treated as an honored guest from this day on."

An honored guest? Such a thing seemed rather unlikely, considering that she'd just spent that last few days in a prison cell. Her eyes flickered suspiciously and she jerked them into his. Green and brown collided headily, and he seemed surprised at the strength within her gaze. At last, she spoke, but it was in turbulence. "My name is Gwen. I have no full name. I do not know what you mean by that. Perhaps my title? Then you may address me as Lieutenant Colonel of Sub-Unit 16, Soldier 642 from Unit 73 of the Western Command."

Her words were met with silence. It was a surprised sort of silence, as though they couldn't believe she was a soldier, and a Lieutenant at that. And what was this about full names? Her full name was Gwen, and that was that. Her people did not have any other names save for the one they were given at birth. They were called thusly, and in the situation that another had the same name, their soldier number was attached to the end.

The dark haired king cleared his throat again, this time a little awkwardly. "Erm. Well, my name is Edmund Pevensie, or rather King Edmund the Just. It is good to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel."

There was mocking in his voice, just a touch of it, when he addressed her by her formal title. Her eyes narrowed a hair and they stared at each other, in a sort of battle. This was a man who vaguely reminded her of Ethan, though there were striking differences between them. For one, Ethan would never be so rude as to treat her with such incompetence, especially in such company.

"King Edmund the Just? And where did you receive this title?" she asked, and from the tone of her voice she was clearly questioning his right to mock her.

He looked at her for a long moment and then said, "Perhaps one day you'll have the honor in knowing. And you? How did a woman receive such a high military title?"

A woman? Was there something off about her being a woman and yet being given such an honor? In her world, there were many women soldiers, just as many as the men, and many more in much higher ranks than hers. Her own mentor had been a woman, as well as General Two and Five of the Northern Units. His question confused her, but she knew that he was further mocking her, so Gwen forced an answer to hurtle truthfully from her lips.

"By sniping an entire division of mutants from a two mile distance with a broken arm and a stomach wound. Perhaps one day you'll remove yourself from your very high horse and tell me what accomplishments _you've_ overcome in order to gain your title. Now may I return to my cell? I've decided that I would prefer the company of your other prisoners to that of this room."

Silence, again. It seemed that everything she uttered came as nothing but a total shock to these monarchs. Her guards shifted on their feet, no doubt wondering what sort of chastisement she would receive from being so bold.

But to everyone's surprise, there was none. The blonde king, Peter, looked at her with eyes that almost, almost seemed to be smiling. And then he cleared his throat and said loudly, "You are no longer a prisoner. Guards, please show Gwen to her rooms. We will send someone in shortly to deal with your injuries."

A wave of his hand sent them on their way. As soon as Gwen was removed from the throne room, Edmund let out a long breath and sunk into his throne. "Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice exasperated and a little embarrassed. His family grinned at the sound of it.

Peter's hand came done to slap playfully at Edmund's shoulder. "I think you've met your match, brother. I don't think I've ever seen your silenced like that."

Edmund pushed the hand off and frowned, grumpy but not angry. This woman was unlike any he'd ever come across, on Earth or in Narnia. "I suppose you'll be making jokes at my expense from now on?" Edmund wondered, and Peter laughed loudly at the hopeful quality of the question.

"I think you already know the answer to _that_," was his only response, and the Just king groaned.

"Well, I think you got what you deserved," Lucy said, almost in a idle manner. She grinned, "If you hadn't called her a woman, she would have gone easy on you. I could practically see the fire in her eyes when you added that into your little argument."

Her words were met only with silence from Edmund, laughter from Peter, and a quiet, strange amusement from Susan.

::::

Whatever Gwen was expecting her new 'rooms' to look like, it hadn't been this. Truthfully, she'd expected a new cell, or at the very least something less…striking. At first, Gwen had thought that her guards had mistaken their orders and brought her to a noblewoman's rooms. And there was another part of her shock: the fact that she wasn't just standing in a single room, but rather a suite.

It was beauty in a form that Gwen had never encountered before, elegant and astounding, and as soon as the guards left she hurried off to explore the extent of it. The first room was a sitting area, furnished with plush couches and chairs, small tables and lamps, and a medium sized window that overlooked the courtyard. She spent a few minutes there, touching the lovely upholstered chairs and wondering at their worth, before she could take no more and all but bounded into the next room.

It was bigger, twice the size or more than the sitting room, and showcased a large, sturdy four poster bed. Light, cream colored fabric swished down from the top, creating a certain halo that could be untied if desired, so that the cloth could be a hideaway. A roaring fire stretched out over the opposite wall, and around it was a gathering of chairs, which were similar to those of the sitting room in their upholstery and design. Indeed, the entire color scheme was similar, all bathed in cream and light traces of other colors here and there, so that the room wasn't simply a room, but rather a garden of accents and light.

One other room stretched out from the left of the bedroom, and upon opening the door of it, Gwen discovered it to be a bathing room. She paused for a moment to admire the white contrasts of the tiles, and the deep set tub, and the gossamer curtains. There was a shelf on one side of the room dedicated to holding soaps, of all different colors and scents. A low lamp was set upon the top of it, though it didn't seem to have much use.

The final room was something of a fascination to Gwen, for she had never seen anything like it before. It was a dressing room. A large wardrobe was placed at the center, and when Gwen peered inside of it she was astounded at the multiple gowns and lovely creations she found within. For a moment, she took one out and held it against her form. A quick glance in the mirror told her all that needed to be said, which was how ridiculous she was being. She was dirty, filthy even, much too much to feel the least bit elegant in something so beautiful. She shoved it back into the wardrobe a second later, a little disgusted at herself for the moment's weakness, and tried her best to ignore the closet as she studied the remainder of the room.

"Do you not like the dresses?"

A gasping noise choked past Gwen's lips as she spun around, eyes wide and wild at the sight of the other queen, the one to whom she didn't know the name of. This woman was perhaps the image of loveliness, so much more beautiful than Gwen could ever be. The queen held her chin steady, and then allowed a softer expression to coat her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. My name is Queen Susan, the Gentle. Perhaps you could give me yours?"

Gwen spun back around, putting her back to the queen as she tried to regain her bearings. In a jilted voice, she muttered, "You already know my name."

The queen hummed and walked forward, her skirts fluttering around her legs. She stepped up to the balcony door, which was the only place Gwen had yet to explore, and said, "That's true. But I would prefer you tell me yourself. It's much more…tactful, you see. A feat that my older brother has yet to learn. Or my younger one, for that matter…"

Gwen remained silent for a few moments, but finally acquiesced. This woman was a lot kinder than she first seemed to be. "Gwen. My name is Gwen."

Susan smiled. The sight of it on her face reminded Gwen of the myths that she had often heard growing up. The myths of the Castle Age, where kings and queens ruled the lands and wars were fought with much simpler weapons, and there was no Disease to create mutants.

"You are injured," the queen said suddenly, as though just remembering. "I had forgotten! You hold yourself so tall that it seems as though you are perfectly fine! Please, allow my sister Lucy to treat your wounds. She is a student in medical treatments."

Gwen frowned, glancing around, and finally noticed that there was movement in the bedroom. She walked back into it and was surprised to find the younger queen already there, laying out tools and stoking the fire. She was surprised that she hadn't heard either of them enter.

She peered toward the sitting room for a moment, wondering if the kings were here as well, but her obvious concerns were put to rest by Lucy, who said, "It's just us for now, though I may need a maid to assist me if your injuries happen to be too much for me to handle. That is doubtful though! You see perfectly fine!"

The optimism wasn't shared by Gwen, though, whose shoulder had been aching since she'd first woken up in her cell block two days before. She had managed to bind the bullet wound with a strip of her hood, but other than that, no treatment had been given and she was almost positive it was infected by now.

"I'd ask that you remove your clothes. I have this you can change into until we can properly fit you with dresses. It's one of Susan's old sleeping gowns, but it looks like it will fit you," Lucy murmured, laying the gown out across the bed. Gwen stared at it for a moment, and the turned her gaze to Lucy.

"There is a bullet lodged in my shoulder. Do you know how to remove it?" For surely, none of these Narnians had ever encountered bullet wounds before.

Lucy frowned. "I'll see what I can do. Do you mind if I call you Gwen, by the way? Or shall I address you as Lieutenant as my brother has?"

This was asked with such a coveted mischief that Gwen found herself smiling, amused at the young queen's wording. Lucy grinned. "Gwen is fine," Gwen said, a grin sprouting over her own lips. And then she stepped forward and began to tug off her clothes, not seeing the slightly horrified looks upon the sister's faces at her apparent audacity.

"But what are you doing? The dressing room is just over there, you've just come from it," Lucy pointed, looking not quite as horrified as Susan, but more than a little amused. Never had a woman begun to undress so improperly before her, even in her own world.

Gwen raised a brow, "Are you embarrassed? Nudity is nothing to be afraid of. It is a part of life." And she continued without bothering to step into the other room, uncaring about how much of her was revealed. She dressed similarly around the men of her squad all the time. It was just an aspect of war, and none of the men or women on her squad cared much about it. They had all seen each other naked at least once.

As she slipped her arm out of her tan uniform, she frowned at the pain. The jumpsuit fell to the ground and left her in little else, save the old undergarments that she'd been wearing for the past few years. There was little resources to be picky about washing, or getting new clothes, and so Gwen often had to simply bind her breasts with a cloth, which was how they were now.

She glanced down at her shoulder, at where the rag was dirty and bloody. If she had some high grade ointment, the infection would be gone within the hour. But as it was, the only things Gwen had brought with her into this strange world were her guns and herself.

"Oh my," Lucy murmured, stepping up and peering at the wound. Behind her, Susan's face was blanched and white, and she quickly turned from the sight of the injury, which Lucy had begun to unwrap. The rag was crusty with dried blood, and peeled away from Gwen's skin with a sickening sound, but Lucy didn't seem to even notice.

"Susan will draw a bath for you. We'll need to clean that wound before I can do anything, and we might as well clean the rest of you as well. No offense, but you aren't the cleanest," Lucy laughed, and Gwen nodded, suddenly weary.

She was surprised she'd been able to stand on her own two feet for the past few days. A bullet wound was a difficult thing to master, and she normally wouldn't have been graced with the strength she had now. She could only guess that it was due in part to the strange situation she found herself in.

The bath took about half an hour to get ready, because it took many maids to carry enough of the boiling water into her bathing room. While she waited, Lucy had donned her in a creamy satin robe and they sat together by the fire.

"You'll have to forgive Susan. We can be a little difficult to get to know. And she isn't very good at playing nurse." Lucy sighed, looking suddenly more mature than she was, and muttered, "And you'll have to forgive Edmund, as well. He isn't used to a woman standing up to him like that. Actually, he isn't used to women in general." At this, she giggled. The thought had Gwen smiling as well, and they traded amused looks as though they were long lost friends. It almost, almost felt as if they were, in fact. Gwen had never been in the company of a woman like Lucy before. The other women soldiers in her unit were all like her: hard, battle-ready, and trying to prove their abilities to the men who considered them weak.

"That's alright. I've encountered many men like your brother in Unit 73. Women soldiers have much more respect than they once did, but there are always some men who don't feel as though they are fit to fight." Gwen shrugged.

The young queen looked up at Gwen and frowned, "Susan is very fond of archery, but Peter would never allow her to be in a real battle. And I am studying medicine, which won't bring me to the battlefield. I'm not sure why your world allows women to be soldiers, Gwen. It seems terrifying."

Gwen paused and looked at the younger queen. She was silent for a long moment, and then said, "The war has caused many things to happen. Women were initially allowed to take part in it because there weren't enough men. That's why. Also, women seem to be less susceptible to the Disease."

"The Disease? What's that?"

But there was no time to explain, because then her bath was ready and Lucy no longer felt as curious. Her job was to mend up the injuries that Gwen had sustained. Questions could be answered at a later time.

The wound was cleaned carefully, as well as the rest of Gwen. After the water had been drained and she was ushered to the bed, Lucy stood up with a small, sharp scalpel.

"Now hold still, please. This is going to hurt."

And it did. It hurt like an unquenchable fire that Gwen felt everywhere, all the way down to her toes.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Sorry it took so long for an update! We didn't have internet for a few days due to problems with my modem. I'll have chapter four up as soon as I'm done writing it~_


	4. Building

_**Soldier 642**_

_**By: **CrashingPetals_

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

_**New Status:** Healthy, no longer prisoner_

_**Location: **Cair Paravel, Narnia_

_**Threats: **Annulled_

_::::_

Gwen had only worn a dress once in her past, and it was for Ethan's sixteenth birthday. He had claimed that his greatest wish was to see her as a girl, and not as a scruffy soldier. It had taken her weeks to find the dress, and even then it had been raggedy and haphazard, but Ethan had enjoyed the sight of her and had even treated her more kindly than he usually did.

That dress hadn't made her feel beautiful. That dress had been old and worn and ripped, and had been made of the same camouflage fabric that the rest of Unit 73's uniforms were made of. But this dress…this dress didn't make Gwen feel like a girl, but rather a woman. And it was a little disconcerting, for she had never really considered her femininity before.

It was a deep, rich green. The skirts were slender around her legs, moving with her body like air, as was the fashion that seemed to be characteristic for Narnia. She'd seen Susan and Lucy, and many maids, dress in similar gowns since she'd been well enough to leave her rooms. But Susan was beautiful, and Lucy was confident, and Gwen could never hold herself up as they could.

Her hands tumbled down the front of her dress, smoothing it out even though there were no wrinkles in the cloth. She glanced in the mirror once more before looking away quickly. Her shoulder wound was still healing, but couldn't be seen beneath the gown because it had long sleeves that traveled as far as her wrists. Her bust, which had never been particularly large, fit snugly into the gown as well, without the assistance of her usual wrap. Susan had all but snatched it away from her when she had gone to put it on, and had claimed that this dress offered enough support on its own. But Gwen would have preferred the wrap, because though it offered support, she still felt rather naked, and silly at that.

"Oh, you look lovely! That gown suits you, Gwen, truly," Lucy smiled, hurrying into Gwen's dressing room. Gwen opened her mouth to argue at the compliment, but Susan's voice cut in before she had the chance, "Are you two ready yet? Peter and Edmund have probably started without us!"

Gwen swallowed thickly as a rather sudden bout of nervousness sprang through her. She couldn't tell exactly why she felt so uncomfortable at the thought of dining with the two kings. Perhaps it was because she'd seen little of them during the week she'd been in Narnia. Gwen had a feeling it had something to do with her harsh words to Edmund, which she felt a little guilty about after she discovered the warm hospitality of his sisters.

"What's wrong, Gwen? Aren't you hungry?" Lucy wondered, pausing to brush down her hair in the mirror. She looked so pretty in her red dress, with her hair braided into perfection. Gwen looked away.

"It's nothing, Lucy. I just…I'm not very good at making friends, and I think I've already ruined what friendship I might have had with Edmund." It was the truth, anyway, or at least part of it. But the other part had nothing to do with Edmund. The other part was nervous because of Peter, because there was something in her that fiercely wanted to see him again, and yet another part that would rather curl up and go home, home to war.

Lucy stared at Gwen for a moment, as though she could see into her innermost thoughts. Her wide blue eyes sparkled thoughtfully and then turned smiling. "If anything, you've _impressed_ my brother. He's never met a woman like you before. I think he's begun to idolize you." She giggled a little, and then added, "And besides, you've done no wrong. It's _him_ whose been a complete idiot."

"Well, I suppose that's what I get for treating a lady with such disrespect!" Gwen and Lucy spun around in surprise, but Edmund wasn't at the door. He was in the bedchamber, leaning against the wall beside the fire, for it would have been extremely rude to enter the dressing room. It was rude to enter the bedchamber, actually, but Gwen didn't care and Lucy chose not to acknowledge it

"Edmund!" Lucy cried, frowning, "What are you doing here? And is Peter with you?"

"Peter's waiting outside," Edmund said nonchalantly, smiling. "Susan let me inside. I've come to escort my ladies to dinner, since Peter and I can't stand to wait another moment. It's terribly rude to keep a man from his supper, you know!"

Lucy only rolled her eyes and pushed past Edmund, "Fine. Then escort your lady to dinner, and make sure you apologize!"

Edmund cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, "Erm…that is…would you do me the honor of coming to dinner, Gwen?"

Gwen stared at him for a moment, a little unsure as to how to go about this. Was there a specific custom to accept? She watched him grow in discomfort as the silence lengthened, and then he leaned forward a little to whisper, "I do believe you have the option to either accept or decline my arm, my lady."

A nervous laugh bubbled from her throat at his words, which were more amused than annoyed. She slipped her hand over his arm and said, "Then I accept. But don't call me that," she added as an afterthought, because it made her uncomfortable to be thought of as Edmund's lady. She belonged to no one.

Edmund smiled and nodded, "Very well. Then what shall I call you? My soldier? Lieutenant? Guinevere?" They exited the room and rejoined the rest of the Pevensies, who were waiting for them outside. Susan and Lucy exchanged smiles. Peter caught Gwen's eye for just a moment before he turned away.

"Guinevere? Why would you call me that?" she wondered in confusion. She'd never heard such an odd name before, though it did sound like her own. Edmund glanced down at her with surprised eyes.

"Don't you know the story of King Arthur and his lady Guinevere?"

Gwen glanced up at him in suspicion, "No, I've never heard of it before. But don't call me Guinevere, because I'm not a lady and I'm certainly not yours."

Her words made him cough, not in embarrassment, but rather in an effort to hide his laughter. She quirked a smile in response to it and he shook his head. The other Pevensie's smiled as well, because Gwen was bolder than they anticipated, even though by now most of them knew of her ways.

"I shall have to tell you the tale, perhaps after dinner," Edmund mused. The group drew close to the dining hall, where their dinner was laid out for them. Gwen didn't hear the rest of Edmund's words, because she immediately gaped at the feast, stopping in her tracks and making the rest of the Pevensie's bump into her from behind.

"What's wrong, Gwen? Do you feel ill?" Lucy frowned, holding onto her other arm as though fearing she may faint. But Gwen wasn't ill, not at all. She had simply never seen real food before, not like this, not laid out in such a fashion. The food she'd been eating for the past week had been dried, or preserved, because the nurses claimed that it would help her gather strength or some such nonsense.

She'd eaten freshly cooked meat in the past, but it had been ages, years since she'd had the chance. There were little animals that could be cooked and eaten in the desert, and no vegetables or fruit. Unit 73 depended entirely on the food supplies that came into their camp every month, and all that food was canned.

"I…but this is…" she was at a total loss for words. The breath was knocked from her in her shock, and she slowly walked forward as her eyes hungrily took in the sight of the meal. This amount of food could feed her Sub-Unit for a fortnight!

Lucy laughed, "Haven't you ever seen food before?" She meant her words as a jest, but to her shock, Gwen shook her head in complete honesty.

Susan frowned and approached Gwen, "Do you mean to say that you've never eaten real food? That you've never sat down and had cooked chicken, or potatoes, or bread?"

Gwen turned to look into Susan's eyes, feeling suddenly ashamed at the shock in her voice. Was it very strange, not to have eaten real, decadent food? But of course it was. The Pevensie's knew little of her time in her own world, or of the hardships that her people faced. Gwen cleared her throat and looked away from the skeptical faces of the two kings, who watched her from a distance. "I…I've never eaten chicken before. Or potatoes. Or fresh bread."

Once upon a time, she had, but her childhood memories were faded and besides, those days were long past. Her parents had once tried to get real food on their table, when it was still a little more acquirable, but they had passed long ago.

The silence thickened to a point of discomfort. It was Peter, surprisingly, who broke it. He approached Gwen slowly, reaching out to touch her arm. She glanced up into his eyes, which quietly stole away her breath, and he said gently, "Why don't you sit down, Gwen? You will have to tell us about the sort of food you've had in the past. I'm very curious."

She stared for a long moment, taking in the feel of his warm fingers through the fabric of her dress, and then nodded. He led her to a chair and she sit down, surprised when he pushed her in as only a gentleman would. He then took his seat at the head of the table, a few places down, and the rest of the Pevensie's rushed to take their places as well, surrounding Gwen.

And then Gwen laughed, because it was so odd, so ridiculous. It must have been just as strange to them, this stranger who had never eaten such a meal before. And that thought made her shake her head and laugh a little harder.

"My people," she said, once she had calmed enough to speak, "that is, the people of Unit 73, reside in the desert. The only supplies we get come in each month on the supply train. The only food I've ever eaten has been from a can."

A can. How sad, how strange. The Pevensie's stared in surprise, and then Edmund leaned in with a raised brow, "A can? But what sort of food is in there?"

Gwen shrugged, "There are many varieties. The most resilient are the fruits, though, because the scientists can manipulate them much easier than meat." She said this in passing, not giving it much thought because it was just another part of her life back home, but to the Pevensie's, it forced another round of questions.

"Scientists? Why do the manipulate the fruit? I don't understand!" Lucy said, her eyes flashing with many unasked questions. She leaned in and stared at Gwen from across the table, looking at her expectantly.

Gwen raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Yes, of course. A soldier could survive for three days on a single can of food. The scientists add artificial nutrients so the food lasts longer, and makes the soldiers strong."

Was this so strange? Gwen didn't think so. She'd survived on the artificial food of her people for years now. It was just a way of life. Eating wasn't something done for pleasure or even for necessity. The scientists made it so necessity could be lengthened, pressed away and shattered. It was better this way, better in times of war.

Edmund frowned, "So…what sort of fruit do you eat, then? Apples? Peaches?"

"It's usually a mixture. If you're very lucky, you'll find a can of meat, too, but it isn't real. The scientists just make it seem like it is, you see. It would cost too much money to buy real food, especially when the mutants often finds ways to disrupt our supply trains."

This, also, was said in passing. Gwen didn't think too hard on her words, because she didn't think they were very strange. Mutants were also a way of life, a bad way of life, but still part of the war. She inhaled the aroma of the fresh food and clutched her hands in her lap, watching as the Pevensie's moved to fill their plates.

Lucy was about to ask more about these strange mutants, but then Edmund spoke up, "Shall I fill you plate for you, Gwen? You seem a little unsure." He laughed a little at this and she smiled at the truth of his words. He proceeded to place a chicken leg on her plate, then a pile of potatoes, and some green beans and fresh bread and corn. And then he reached for her goblet and poured what seemed to be wine into it.

"I will assume that, if you've never eaten such decadent food before, then you've never had a taste of wine. And Narnian wine is no doubt better than any wine on Earth," he added with a smile, because he himself had found this to be very true.

Gwen hummed and reached for the goblet. She took a deep sip and then leaned back in her chair with a measuring, judging expression. "It's good. But I prefer brandy, I think."

At this, Peter choked on his own wine, which he had risen to his mouth to sip. Edmund, too, looked shocked, as did his sisters. Once again, Gwen had managed to catch them completely off guard with a single phrase. She laughed.

"My people are at war, Edmund! What else would they do in their free time other than get completely wasted?" she laughed again, because she had experienced this aspect of life many times before, especially in the company of Ethan. Her knowledge of it made Susan a little…uncomfortable.

"You've gotten drunk before?!" she asked, eyes wide at the apparent audacity of such a thought. "But what of your parents? Do they allow you to act like this?"

Susan's words made Gwen frown, just a little insulted. And the intimate question of her upbringing had her more than a little uncomfortable as a result. So Gwen only turned away and said instead, "If you lived in my world, you wouldn't have a second thought either. Drinking is a way to forget, after all, and sometimes forgetting is just what a soldier wants." Not that Gwen had ever truly turned to alcohol as a means to do this. She had Ethan. He was her very best friend and he wouldn't have allowed her to become an alcoholic anyway. But they'd spent many a night tasting brandy and vodka and the like after a fierce battle, because sometimes even the company of each other couldn't completely save them.

Edmund cleared his throat at the sudden awkwardness that descended upon the table. He gestured at Gwen's plate and said, "Why don't you try the chicken first? It's quite delicious. Our cooks are some of the best in Narnia, I'd say." He smiled at her and she nodded, lifting up the chicken and biting off a small piece of it.

She chewed for a while, much longer than needed, and allowed the strange taste of it to coat her senses. It was unlike anything she'd ever had before, and it shocked her. It wasn't long before she was eagerly tasting everything else on her plate, unaware of the amused looks on the Pevensie's faces as she rather ungracefully ate.

"How is it?" Lucy asked, grinning. Gwen swallowed and said, "It's so…so good! I've never tasted anything so good in my life!"

Even the scare meals she'd had with her parents had never been so good. It was the spices, she was sure of it. The spices made the chicken burst with flavor, and the salt and pepper on the corn and the butter on the potatoes. It was all too much, and it made the object of eating something more than pleasurable, a feat she hadn't experienced in…well, ever.

When she had eaten her fill, and had finished her wine, Edmund leaned in and said in a rather somber tone, "Gwen…erm, I'd just like to…um…" he glanced furtively at his sisters for help, but they only raised the eyebrows at him and nodded toward Gwen. She wondered quietly at the strange looks on their faces, but her curiosity was quickly sated as Edmund finished. "Gwen, I'd like to apologize for my words that day in the throne room. It was terribly rude of me, and I was wondering…if you'd like to have a tour of the grounds tomorrow?" he looked a little hopeful, but his face was a cadence of brotherly affection, or at least what could become brotherly affection in time. So Gwen felt fine in accepting, and even a little excited, for she hadn't been outside the castle since she was brought into it about a week before. And she quite liked Edmund, she decided, because since getting to know him a little better, he certainly did remind her more of Ethan than she'd expected.

"I would love to," she told him, and his face creased in relief. Lucy giggled and whispered, "He's been wanting to apologize for _days_, but he's been terrified!"

"Lucy!" Edmund cried, and sprang from his chair. The smile on his face gave his intentions away, however, and Lucy was well out of her own chair before he could catch her. "I'll get you back for that, just you wait!" he cried after her as she fled the room, laughter singing in her wake.

Gwen just smiled and sat back, feeling an odd sort of happiness that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

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The dresses that Gwen found herself wearing only got more and more beautiful as she gained confidence in them. She would have been more comfortable in pants and a shirt, as she'd worn her entire life, but the Narnian culture didn't see women dress as such, and Susan would never have allowed it anyway. Gwen didn't altogether mind wearing dresses. She got used to the feel of the long skirts, and how they gathered at her waist, and she even found herself beginning to like them. They made her into a woman, which was strangely refreshing.

She was beginning to get used to a great many things, in fact. Narnia was growing on her. It would have been impossible not to appreciate the beauty of the land, and the way it sang out to her. There was a loveliness here that she'd never seen before.

"Are you cold?" Edmund asked as they walked along a gravel pathway. It was a little chilly out this morning, but Gwen had discovered that once the sun rose, the air would warm very quickly. She shook her head.

"I'm fine. I don't think I've been to this area of the grounds before. You only showed me the courtyard and the surrounding areas yesterday. It's prettier here," she mused, taking in the wilderness. It was more untamed on this side of the grounds, and less visited during this part of the day.

Edmund nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he walked beside her, "Yes. The archery range is just up ahead, and just beyond that is the training area. I spend a lot of time there training soldiers to fight." His explanation spiked her curiosity.

"Fighting? What sort of fighting do you do here?" she'd seen a lot of swords hanging from the belts of guards, so she could already guess at the answer. But she wanted to know more, for she'd never handled a sword before.

Edmund smiled down at her, "I train my soldiers in the sword. They also learn the bow, and often times the mace as well." They walked for a moment in silence and then Edmund asked, "Would you like to visit the training grounds?"

Gwen grinned and nodded, pleased that he had guessed at her thoughts so quickly. He laughed and led the way down a different path that veered suddenly from the gravel. This one was well walked, and was a simply dirt pathway, which made the walk down quieter and easier. This was good, because Gwen was still getting used to the slippers that Susan had insisted she wore.

"Edmund?" she suddenly asked, deciding to question him on a subject that had been plaguing her for a while. He glanced down at her with a soft hum, and she continued, "I…was wondering about your brother."

If this surprised him, Edmund didn't show it. Instead, he nodded, and said, "And what about my brother has taken a hold of your curiosity?"

She held a blush at bay, suddenly wondering at the change in Edmund's tone. It seemed almost teasing, sort of like Lucy's when she was being mischievous. Gwen paused, and then said, "It's just that I don't see him very often. When I do, we never speak, not like I do with you and your sisters. Does he…dislike me?" After she voiced her question, she realized how silly it sounded. She chuckled a little and glanced at Edmund, not surprised that he, too, was smiling. "I've never really cared what people thought of me," she added, "but I'm don't want Peter to hate me after he's done so much to help me."

Edmund hummed again and was silent for a moment, thinking over his answer. He seemed to understand where she was coming from, but then again he knew his brother much better than she did. "Peter can be difficult. He's the High King, and has much more responsibility than the rest of us. His work keeps him very busy, you see, which is why you rarely see him. But I doubt he dislikes you, Gwen. He's just hard to get to know, that's all. I'd be willing to wager that he's already begun to think of you as family."

She wasn't sure about that last part, but Edmund's words did make her feel better. She nodded and smiled, put at ease, and they continued past the archery range in silence.

"Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, peering ahead past the training grounds to an area of the palace she hadn't seen yet. "Are those…horses?"

Edmund let out a sound of agreement, "Our stables are very well equipped. And we have Talking Horses as well as Dumb beasts housed inside. Perhaps one day one of us can take you for a ride."

She grinned and studied the fences that must have kept the Dumb beasts. Outside the fences, other horses roamed freely, so she guessed that they were the intelligent animals. She knew a little of the various Narnian creatures that resided here. She knew that many of the animals could talk, and were given much respect. She also knew that Dwarves, Centaurs, and many other creatures were a part of the palace court, for she had seen many in the halls and grounds.

"I'd like that," she told Edmund, "thought I've never ridden a horse before."

They walked into the training area, where a couple of men were busy sparring. As soon as they saw Edmund walking up, they stopped and bowed their heads in respect. Edmund nodded back to them and for a moment, stopped to watch the soldiers turn back and resume fighting. Gwen stared in wonder as well, for she had never seen sword fighting. The way the men heaved the swords above their heads and around their bodies, as though the metal was an attachment of their arms, was amazing. She doubted she could gain their level of competence if she tried.

Edmund tugged her lightly toward the large stone building, and they disappeared inside. The scent of spice and wood and iron immediately infiltrated her senses. She turned around and looked at the room, which was one large area that housed numerous swords, maces, and other weapons she couldn't name. There were straw mats on the floor, and off to the side of the room stood various tables and chairs, small and easily fitted. On the opposite side of the huge room was a door, which perhaps lead to an office of sorts.

"This is the indoor training room," Edmund explained, though he needn't have. The purpose of the room was obvious enough. "In the winter when there is a lot of snow, we train here."

Gwen nodded, running her fingers over a shelf of hanging swords, their tips all pointed to the ground. "You must spend a lot of time here," she murmured, walking over to one of the smaller tables and touching a bottle of wine, one of many that sat upon the surface of the tables. A grin was flashed to Edmund, "Your men seem to enjoy Narnian wine just as much as you do."

At this, Edmund had the decency to look offended, but it was such a mocking sort of offense that Gwen couldn't help but burst into laughter, to which Edmund soon joined in. He walked to where she was standing in three long strides and said suddenly, a twinkle in his eye, "You fight too, don't you Gwen? How'd you like to learn the sword? I could teach you a few tricks."

She looked at him in surprise, for she hadn't expected him to ask, though she did want to learn. "Isn't it improper for women to fight in Narnia?" she asked, and watched as Edmund shrugged.

"It's improper for women to go to battle, yes. But many of the women here know how to fight. Peter makes sure that they learn, for self-defense. Even Lucy knows how to use a dagger," and he rubbed an area of his arm as though being reminded of some previous run in with his sister.

Gwen grinned, "Well, then yes! I doubt I'll be any good, but I'd love to give it a try!"

Edmund grinned back at her and nodded, "Alright then. I'll fit you in a leather cuirass and some gauntlets, and we'll get started. I usually start training beginners with wooden swords, but I hit pretty hard and I don't want you to get hurt," he explained, now rifling through a chest that was filled with leather armor.

Gwen raised a brow and shrugged, having no doubt in her mind that his words held truth. She could handle herself, but perhaps it would be a good idea to don the leather cuirass. She took what Edmund handed to her and he instructed her how to put it on. There were many fastenings, and it took her a few minutes, but Edmund was decent enough to step back and allow her the privacy to doing it herself.

"Here are the gauntlets. These, I think, you will need help putting on. The leather ones can be difficult to fasten," he said, and helped her slip her hands into the stiff leather. They were hard to buckle, so Gwen let Edmund take over as he made sure they were tight on her wrists. After that, he looked at her and grinned. "You look fierce, my lady," he teased, and she glanced down at herself as well, smiling. She did, indeed. The leather cuirass hugged her waist tightly, and below it her skirts burst forth in layers of satin and chiffon.

"Now," Gwen said, smiling in mischief, "show me how to fight."

Edmund grinned and stepped forward, raising his wooden sword and tossing her one that matched. The afternoon was spent doing exactly that.

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A fierce fire crackled in the hearth of Peter's office. He'd been cooped up there all day, working hard on the paperwork that had been backlogged during the past few days. It was tedious work, and he took breaks often. The last of it had thankfully just been finished up and he was just finalizing a few more reports. His dinner, which he had ordered to have in his office tonight, was getting colder and colder, an indecency that Peter had forced himself to ignore as he penned his signature again and again on countless papers.

He was just about to give into the temptation of hunger when his office door burst open and Lucy came hurrying inside, smiling and looking somewhat mischievous, for reasons Peter almost didn't want to know. "Lucy? Did you need something?" he asked, looking back down at his desk and pushing the last paper away into a nearby pile. He reached for his wine.

"Nothing. But I haven't seen you all day, Peter. You've been so busy lately," she complained, throwing her seventeen year old self into the chair by the fire. She looked back at him and he laughed.

"You can blame the war council for that," he told her, sighing. "It seems that the Lantern Waste has done nothing but give us trouble as of late. Edmund has been too busy to look into it so the responsibility has fallen to me."

At this, Lucy raised her eyebrows, "Has Edmund been busy? I didn't notice. I see him a lot with Gwen. I assumed he had nothing else to do."

Peter stared at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, and then made a noise. "Gwen? What have they been doing lately?" the tone of his voice was careful, and slow, but Lucy knew better. She smiled. She knew better because normally, Peter would have jumped up at the thought of Edmund veering from his duties, but the notion had passed him right by at the mere mention of Gwen.

Lucy shrugged, "They walk together a lot. Edmund's been showing her more of the castle, and the grounds. He's teaching her to fence, too. And yesterday I saw them together in the library."

She carefully regarded her brother's face, looking for any sign of jealousy. What she saw made her grin, though she hurried to keep it from her face. Peter was so transparent, so easy to read, so much more than Edmund. He was like a sky, and the clouds his feelings.

When his silence was all that her words were met with, Lucy tilted her head in curiosity. "Is there something wrong, Peter?"

He cleared his throat and muttered, "No, nothing." And was silent for another long moment before he cursed loudly and stood, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste. As he began to pace, Lucy knew exactly where his thoughts were, and so she gently delved into them without him bothering to ask, as she'd done many times before.

"Peter…I think that Gwen would like to know more about you. She speaks of you often, and wonders why she rarely sees you." Lucy watched him pause for a moment, and then resume walking at a faster pace. She hid a smile, "I think, for example, if you were to ask her to take a ride with you, she'd say yes - "

"Confound it, Lucy!" he suddenly exclaimed, but his voice was far from angry. It was more amused than anything else, because though Lucy didn't see it, she herself was also transparent. He turned to her, "I can see exactly what you're trying to do, you know."

She smiled widely, but kept up her pretence of innocence, "Oh, do you?" They exchanged smiles, his exasperated, hers amused, and then Peter collapsed into the chair beside Lucy's.

"It's silly of me, isn't it?" he wondered aloud, not fully realizing what he was saying. "We've known Gwen for two weeks. I rarely see her, and when I do, I'm terribly rude to her and am often too busy to stop. And yet…I find myself wanting to know much more about her." Silence, and then, "Do you think that's strange?"

The question caught Lucy a little off guard, because of the softness of it. Peter rarely showed his emotions freely. Though they were always easy to guess at, he tried his best to keep them under control regardless. It wasn't often that Lucy was privy to his thoughts.

Lucy put a hand on Peter's arm, catching his eye. "No, Peter. It's not strange at all. Gwen is wonderful. I think she'd very much like to know more about you, too." It was the truth. Gwen had many questions for Lucy about Peter. It almost sounded as though she was afraid to ask him herself, and Lucy didn't completely blame her. Out of all the siblings, Peter was the one who was often gone.

Her older brother looked into Lucy's eyes for a long moment, and was about to speak when his office door burst open for the second time that night.

"Peter, I have much to tell you about today - Oh, hello, Lucy," Edmund said, abruptly veering off. He grinned roguishly and then eyed Peter's dinner. A moment later, he was seated across from them with the platter in his lap.

"Hey - give me that," Peter said, taking the platter back firmly. "I haven't eaten all day, you greedy arse!"

Lucy opened her mouth, "Peter! Don't cuss!" And Edmund shattered Peter's response as he laughed, overriding his words.

"Anyway, I was out walking with Gwen today, oh don't give me that look, Pete, I know you're jealous," to which Peter glared and snatched his wine to distract himself, "I'm teaching Gwen to swordfight. She's getting awful good, for someone whose only just begun to learn. Oh, but that's not the point I was going to make."

"Would you just get on with it," Peter asked, a little peeved that Edmund was spending so much time with Gwen and he was not. It was silly, and jealous, and not something Peter would ever admit to feeling. But it was there regardless, curling in his chest and fueling his glower.

Edmund and Lucy exchanged an amused glance that said they knew exactly what was going on, and then Edmund said, "I offered to take Gwen riding tomorrow, too. That was what I was getting at."

Whatever Peter was expecting Edmund to say, it wasn't that. He leaned back, "Why are you bothering to tell me this - ?"

"Because, Peter," Edmund cut in, laughing at the impatience in Peter's voice, "I've conveniently forgotten that I'm busy tomorrow. Quite busy. Much too busy to take Gwen riding." In a mischievous voice, he wondered, "Who could possibly take my place, I wonder?" And then sent Peter a raised brow.

Silence settled on the room. Peter chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at his younger siblings. "You two are the worst, do you know that? You bad enough apart, but when you're together it's twice as bad. But I don't know if I can clear my schedule - "

"Of course you can," Susan's voice rolled in, and the three of them glanced at the doorway, where Susan had been listening in. She swept into the room and took the remaining chair, elegantly crossing her legs as she leaned back. "And you won't want to miss this, Peter. I've already picked out Gwen's outfit for tomorrow and she's going to look positively beautiful."

At this, Lucy rolled her eyes, "In a riding habit? Susan, you're mad to think that _anyone_ could look lovely in a riding habit."

Luckily for Peter, a small argument ensued between Susan and Lucy regarding dresses and horses, and so no one but Edmund saw the soft blush on his cheeks. Edmund smirked and looked away, leaving Peter to his private thoughts, which no doubt centered around Gwen and the plans for tomorrow.

"Anyway," Susan broke off, leaning toward Peter, "Gwen's already very excited at the prospect of riding. You'll have to help her to learn, though, and take her on one of the Talking animals since she's never ridden before. It'll be better. Oh, and be polite, Peter! Don't be your usual stubborn self - "

"Hey! I'd have you know that I have plenty of other attributes - "

"Oh, and perhaps we should pack a lunch for you. What do you think, Lucy?"

"It's a wonderful idea! Peter needs a break, and Gwen's never had a picnic before. She told me so. Oh, Peter, you should take her to the Narrow Crossing! It's such a good picnic spot."

"That's a marvelous idea, Lucy. I think she's right, Peter. How romantic!"

Edmund and Peter exchanged glances that said everything that needed to be said, and simply allowed the girls to their fun.

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**A/N: **_It took longer than I thought, but hope you all liked the chapter! And if you think Peter's OOC, please let me know? I've been trying not to be unrealistic but sometimes I get carried away :D _

_Thanks for all the amazing reviews! And especially to Bronze Cat, I really appreciate the feedback. I'll try to go back to do some edits when I have the time/motivation._

_Review / PM ^_^_


	5. Ripped Petticoats

**Soldier 642**

**By: **_CrashingPetals_

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**Chapter Five**

**Status: **_Flustered, nervous, confused, sick?_

**Notes: **_Rode a horse today. Strange! Hope Ethan's doing alright. Over and out._

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Something was going on, Gwen knew it. She knew it because Susan had been fussing with her outfit for the past half hour, and though this wasn't altogether uncommon, it was getting annoying.

"Oh, stop moving so much, Gwen!" Susan cried, and moved to re-do a section of her hair that she'd insisted to braid. It was more elaborate than Gwen had imagined, especially when she was only going for a ride with Edmund, who she wasn't trying to impress. It felt so strange to be dolled up like this, and not particularly _human_. It sort of annoyed her, though she tried not to show it for Susan's sake. She sighed deeply and glowered through the mirror at Susan, cringing as the queen tugged a little too harshly.

"I don't know why I can't just wear my uniform. I mean, wouldn't it be easier to learn how to ride in something lighter?" Because the dress, or riding habit, as Susan called it, was heavier than anything she'd ever worn before. The skirts were full and long, and were making her hot. It was altogether very uncomfortable, and silly. For the first time since she came to Narnia, Gwen longed for the familiar fabric of her tan camouflage.

"Nonsense," Susan murmured, "Don't be ridiculous. Now hold still."

The final braid was pulled up and looped into the intricate bun that Susan had created. It hurt, but even Gwen, who had no notion of her own beauty, thought it looked rather becoming on her. For a moment, she stared at her reflection, and then she began to feel silly again. Silly that she'd ever found herself lovely.

"_This_ is ridiculous, Susan. I'm only going horse riding with Edmund. I don't see why I have to dress up like this," she huffed, standing and finding it rather difficult to do so with all the skirts weighing her down. She let out an annoyed breath.

Susan only smiled a secret sort of smile that left Gwen suspicious, and shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter now. What matters is that you look lovely, and Edmund will be waiting for you in the courtyard. You should head down now, you know, so you don't keep him waiting."

Gwen stared at her for a long moment, unsure if she should be grateful for her hard work or annoyed. She would have been down much earlier if Susan hadn't burst into her rooms and took it upon herself to see to her primping. She shook her head, looking a little astounded, but decided against answering. Instead, Gwen merely muttered to herself as she stumbled from the room, the annoying skirt creating more of an obstacle than she liked to admit.

Indeed, the monstrosity that was her dress forced Gwen to take slow, unsure steps as she made her way down to the palace courtyard. She was so intent on watching her feet, or at least where her feet were hidden, that she paid no mind to the company that she kept. All she knew was that Edmund was standing with two horses, reins in his hand as he waited.

"Edmund, I'm sorry I'm late. Your blasted sister all but stuffed me into this ridiculous outfit and then proceeded to pull out all my hair. I think my skull is - oh. Peter?"

But that wasn't Edmund at all. The brooding, younger brother was no where to be seen. Peter stood in his place, looking a little bashful. He shifted awkwardly as the silence turned uncomfortable.

"Erm…hello, Gwen. Edmund forgot that he was…busy this morning. So I offered to take you riding instead. Because…I heard that you really wanted to go." Oh, goodness, that was pathetic. Peter flinched a little, but Gwen didn't see because she was too busy looking anywhere but at him. He was too marvelous in the early morning sun. It made his eyes explode, made his hair into gold, and the sudden, intense feelings that crawled over Gwen made her feel a little shy. Which was utterly silly, because Gwen had never been shy in her entire life!

She laughed, trying to break the solid layer of ice that had so quickly descended upon the situation. She forced herself to look at Peter, and noticed that his eyes were as warm as that sun. He smiled a little crookedly at her and she shrugged. "That's alright. It's nice to get away from Edmund anyway. I've been spending so much time with him lately." And none with you, her eyes seemed to say.

Peter swallowed and cleared his throat, easing into his kingly personality as he turned to Gwen. "This is Mara. She's a Talking Horse and has agreed to let you ride her today. And this," he patted his own steed, which was nearly 17 hands and towered quite imposingly beside Peter, "this is my good friend Alric."

Gwen stared for a moment, watching the two horses acknowledge her. She approached Mara, looked into her warm brown eyes, and said, "It's wonderful to meet you, Mara. I think I should apologize in advance though. These skirts are ridiculously heavy."

Mara whinnied softly. It sounded almost like laughter, Gwen noted with interest. The Talking Horse spoke, "It's nothing I can't handle, my Lady."

Peter smiled at the exchange, caught strangely off guard at the warmness that Gwen was showing. He hadn't spoken much with her in the past two weeks, and all the times he had she'd been colder, somehow. But now, beneath the Narnian sun, she was brilliant. And Susan certainly did make her look beautiful. He found that he could scarcely look away from her.

"Oh, and Lucy packed us lunch," Peter said, and Gwen turned to him. "She's told me that you've never been on a picnic. I plan on changing that before this day is through!" His smile was quick in coming, and Gwen returned it easily.

Once Peter had somewhat awkwardly assisted Gwen onto her horse, the day turned smoother. Mara did all the work for Gwen, walking alongside Peter's in a comfortable silence. It was nice because it didn't feel like Peter and Gwen were completely alone, an obstacle that Gwen wasn't sure she was quite ready to face. There was something intimidating about him.

Conversation was short and a little uncomfortable, but Peter persisted and Gwen had to give him credit for it. He was ever the gentleman. He laughed when she did and didn't ask her anything too personal. By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Gwen was beginning to feel a little better about being in his presence.

"Peter, do you think we could go faster?" she wondered, and then said to Mara, "Maybe I should be asking you that, Mara."

Mara whinnied and for a couple of short seconds, didn't respond. But then she suddenly rolled back on her haunches and took off, at a canter that seemed much faster than Gwen had anticipated. Peter watched with shocked and worried eyes as she clung to the horse, teetering as every thundering hoof fell. But she looked fine, and, as Peter urged Alric forward to follow her, he thought he could even hear laughter.

Gwen _was_ laughing. It was exhilarating, this speed. The edge of the forest passed them by in a blur and Gwen couldn't stop the sense of soaring freedom from erupting within her. She'd never flown before, ever. There weren't horses in her unit. There weren't vehicles that she was allowed on, and the Air Force had a special unit all to themselves. This was the closest she'd come to being airborne.

"Don't let me fall, Mara," Gwen said over the wind, and the horse didn't respond. But Gwen saw Mara nod her head a little, and then to her extreme delight, the horse pressed faster into a gallop. And Gwen's heart, though shaky, was sold.

Another bout of laughter burst from her lips. She tilted her head back as the wind and the sun and the air washed over her face. And then all of the sudden, it was over.

Gwen landed hard on the ground, the air whooshing from her lungs at the sudden impact. She cried out in surprise, squinting up at the sun. Mara kept riding, but she must have known she was rider-less because Gwen could vaguely see her turning, sweeping back around.

"Gwen!" Oh, God. Peter saw that. Peter saw her fall. How mortifying. She closed her eyes tightly and threw an arm over them for good measure, but it was useless. She heard Peter ride up and then the sound of his jumping off his horse. He was kneeling beside her in less than an instant, the gentleman that he was. "Gwen, are you alright? Talk to me," he begged.

She shook her head. "Tell me you didn't see that." She was going to die of shame. Oh, why couldn't it have been Edmund instead? Anyone but Peter!

There was laughter in his voice when he responded, and it made Gwen even more mortified. "If it pleases you, then I didn't see your fall." Her eyes flew open, the green within them bursting with annoyance and embarrassment, and Peter took a bit of pity on her. He smiled gently, his eyes softening, and said, "Gwen, have you been hurt? I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt on our first day out."

He thought little of the implications of his words, but Gwen did. They hit her rather hard, making some of her anger fade. He'd said their 'first day out', which meant that he planned on taking a second day out with her. She schooled herself not to smile, but her heart wasn't so easily swayed.

"Only my pride, Peter. Could you help me stand? I don't think these skirts will let me on my own," she grumbled, sitting up. Peter laughed and nodded, taking her hands in both of his and helping her. He held onto them a moment longer than necessary, craving the warmth of her skin, and then let them go.

"We're almost at the Narrow Crossing. Do you feel well enough to continue on?" he asked, as Mara came up. She looked sadly into Gwen's eyes and Gwen patted her neck, accepting the silent apology. "I'll be fine. I think the skirts cushioned most of the fall anyway," she shrugged, and Peter smiled.

"Even so, perhaps we'd better walk the rest of the way there. I don't want you falling again," he added, his voice a little teasing, and Gwen shot him a look that made him laugh a little harder.

So they walked, and it didn't take them long before they reached the far edge of the forest. The Narrow Crossing, Gwen came to discover, was a river only a little ways into the forest. There was a stout wooden bridge swooping over the water, wide enough for two men to cross side by side, and the name made sudden sense to her.

"This is lovely," Gwen said, craning her head as she peered around. The canopy overhead was speckled with sunlight, and it filtered down to the forest floor like tiny fairy dancers. The trees were in full bloom, their leaves readying themselves for summertime as they stretched out. The rush of water made the place even more perfect. Gwen sensed that there must be a waterfall nearby for there to be so much noise.

Peter had unloaded the lunch basket from Alric by the time Gwen had turned back around, and she watched him for a moment as he spread out a thin blanket in a sunlit area of the grass. She noted that Mara and Alric had moved about 50 feet away, and thought it rather strange. The intimacy of the moment suddenly crashed through her and she felt a little shy again, a feeling that made her altogether uncomfortable.

"Do you want to sit, Gwen? Lucy packed us plenty of food. And some wine, it looks like," he said, as though to himself as he checked the insides of the basket. Gwen slowly walked up to him, feeling more than a little ridiculous in her voluptuous dress, and forced herself to sit down at the edge of the blanket. Peter didn't seem to notice her discomfort, but if he had, he was being very gentlemanlike and not mentioning it. She frowned when she realized it was probably the latter.

"…I'm afraid I've been very rude to you lately, Gwen," he suddenly said. He'd been watching her from the corner of his eye for a while, and had indeed noticed the discomfort she seemed to be struggling with. She looked at him and he swallowed at the sight of those eyes. There was something about the green in them that made his heart positively jump. It wasn't affection, really, just surprise and intensity and intrigue, the likes of which Peter had never encountered before. He cleared his throat. "I'm usually very busy with the politics of the country, so I don't have much spare time. And when I do, I'm intent on catching up on my work. I do hope you'll accept my apology for not being the greatest host."

She stared. She hadn't been expecting that. Peter seemed too kingly to apologize for something so mundane. But he looked at her with honesty, as though he truly was sorry, and had been for a while, and the regal blue in his eyes made her want to quell his worries. So she leaned forward and said earnestly, "I understand. I accept your apology, but you didn't need to give it, really." But it felt nice, and it made her heart blossom warmly in her chest.

He smiled roguishly and let the topic go. It seemed to break the ice between them once more, and the atmosphere turned playful and bright. "Now, may I pour you some wine, my Lady?" he wondered, and she rolled her eyes at the title he gave her.

"Don't make me resort to something unladylike," she warned, and then told him to call her Gwen and nothing else, or he'd be sorry. He had laughed at that, quite sure that he would be if he didn't heed her words. But regardless, he gave her a pewter mug of wine, and then turned to the food. "Let's see…I suppose you haven't tried our roast beef yet. Lucy's had the cook make sandwiches. Interested?" When she nodded eagerly, Peter laughed and filled a plate for her, loading it high with roast beef sandwiches, some cherry tomatoes, a few slices of assorted fruits, and various other foods. He nearly laughed again at the bright sheen her eyes took on as she took the plate.

They were in the middle of their meal when Peter decided it was about time he start questioning her. After all, he knew little of her life, and the purpose of this outing was to get to know her. His siblings knew much more than he and he wanted to change that. "Gwen?"

She glanced at him. He was reclined on one elbow, his plate half empty as it lay before him. He looked somehow more kingly in his casual stance, and it made Gwen smile a little. "Yes, your Highness?" her voice had an edge of teasing.

He rolled his eyes, "Call me Peter, Gwen, I insist. I was wondering about the war you're fighting."

The atmosphere immediately changed. No longer was the recent, warm Gwen in his presence. She straightened her body and somehow turned colder, intimidating. He frowned.

"What did you want to know about?" she asked.

"Well…who are you fighting? And tell me about your unit. And the squad you lead."

She looked at him for a moment and then laughed a little at the many questions, and suddenly warm, happy Gwen was back. He sighed in relief and hoped that this Gwen would stay, for he liked this one much better. He listened with a rapt ear as she described bits and pieces of the war, and the mutants she fought, though she didn't go into great detail about them. She ended her story with an explanation of how she had first woken up in Narnia, and then he saw a curious spark light her eyes as she looked at him.

"What is it?" he wondered, knowing she had a question for him.

She quirked an eyebrow and gracefully fell into a similarly reclined position as him. "How did you and your family come into Narnia? You said you were from Earth."

"Mmm." He thought hard on this, shifting through the vagueness of his memories and trying to find the answer to her question. In truth, he couldn't fully remember. He only knew for certain that they'd come during the reign of Jadis. "I don't really remember," he told her truthfully, and then added, "I seem to remember some sort of iron tree though."

Gwen raised an eyebrow at this, "An iron tree? How strange. Are you sure you haven't hit your head recently?"

He gaped at her, his eyes turning playful, and leaned forward. "Are you insinuating that I'm going mad, my Lady?"

She mock gasped and spun back, her voice near to laughing as she replied, "You just called me a lady. I've warned you what would happen if you did. And in answer to your question, yes."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, wondering what the other would do. And then, all at once, the silence shattered and Peter lunged forward, missing Gwen by a hair as she rolled away from him. They chased each other in a childish manner, but neither seemed to think it childish or unseemly. Their chests were aching with laughter and it felt good, so much better than sitting doing paperwork all day, or wondering what had happened to Ethan or her squad. But the laughter ended just as suddenly as it began when Peter slipped rather suddenly beside the river, and started to fall. Gwen grabbed onto his arm to stop him, but he only ended up taking her with him. Together, they splashed into the river in a very ungraceful manner.

Gwen gasped, rubbing water out of her eyes. Luckily, this part of the river wasn't deep or fast. But her skirts were waterlogged and Peter was completely soaked. They turned to look at each other, and the did the only thing that seemed wise: they began to laugh.

"Well," Peter gasped, "I suppose I shall never call you a lady again. I've certainly learned my lesson."

Gwen chortled and struggled to stand up. Peter rushed to assist her, but she waved his hands away. "I'm afraid I still think you're mad, Peter, I am sorry. But anyone who spends a day with me becomes insane. It's the price all my friends must pay."

Peter looked at her in mock solemnity and nodded. "I guess that explains why Edmund's been ill as of late. Are you sure this insanity is strictly of the mind?" And he proceeded to get a heavy splash of water for his words, which, of course, turned into something of a war.

By the time they had gotten out of the river, the sun was beginning to arch down into early evening. It surprised Gwen at how long they been out, and how quickly the time seemed to fly. She struggled to walk back to the blanket, but halfway there Gwen had had quite enough of her ridiculous dress and spent no time at all in lifting it up.

When Peter heard the sound of ripping fabric, he turned, for his back had been to Gwen. His face exploded with warmth and he quickly jerked his chin away from the sight of her. She had managed to pull the top layer of the skirt up to her waist, and all her petticoats were on display. She was ripping each one away, the pile of them growing on the grass beside her as each came off.

Peter cleared his throat, trying to dispel the sight of her from his mind. It was highly inappropriate, and more than a little unseemly. But he wasn't particularly surprised at her actions. In fact, he'd been expecting her to do something like this: that is, to catch him completely and totally off guard in some way or the other.

"Erm…you know, Susan isn't going to like that you've just torn apart your riding habit," Peter said aloud, but it didn't seem to upset Gwen in the least. In face, she only laughed and rolled her eyes - not that Peter saw her expression, he was staring with a set jaw in the opposite direction.

"Come off it, Peter," she said. "I can hardly walk with all the water in the skirts. And besides, I want to fly again, properly this time." The passion in her voice made him turn to her, intent on catching sight of her lovely green eyes. He was happy that she had tugged her outer skirt down over the ruined petticoats, but then he realized that the sight of her now was just as compelling. She looked wild, untamed, like a sort of wilderness that was uniquely Narnian, in that it called out to him wistfully, passionately.

"Let's go for one last ride, please Peter? It'll dry our clothes," she added, but she needn't have. He would have given her anything she desired in that moment, and the realization surprised him. He'd never felt quite so strongly over a woman before. But Gwen had a strange power over him, and this too was strange, because he barely knew anything about her. She was like a legend, in some mystifying, inconceivable manner.

He laughed and nodded, reaching for her hand. She slipped it into his easily and without thinking, as though it belonged in his grasp, and he tugged her over to where their horses were still grazing. "What about the picnic?" she asked, looking back at their unfinished meals and the basket. Peter waved it off and only said, "I'll send someone to clean it up, and to dispose of your ruined petticoats," he added, eyes sparking with a fire that made Gwen swallow.

This time, when he helped her onto her horse, the tension between them wasn't uncomfortable. Rather, it was thick in another way, a way that Gwen couldn't fully understand. She only knew that she didn't want this day to end, and that she hadn't had this much fun since…well, she couldn't really remember.

As they flew back to the castle, Gwen could only think about how wonderful Peter was after getting to know him, and how she wanted to know more, craved more time with him, wanted everything he had to offer her. And the strength of this emotion astounded her and confused her and excited her all at once.

::::

"How was your ride?" Lucy immediately asked them as Peter and Gwen found their way into the dining hall. Neither had realized that they were late to dinner until they stumbled inside the castle, and by then it was much too late to hurry upstairs to their rooms and change. So it was with as much dignity as they could gather that the two of them stepped forward. Gwen, her dress now stiff from the wind and the water, and her hair positively messy, and Peter, looking regal despite his damp clothes and his flushed cheeks.

"Wonderful," Gwen answered honestly, collapsing into her chair and immediately pouring herself some water. "It was wonderful." In her thirst, she didn't see the looks that were exchanged between Susan and Lucy. But Peter did.

"Well, since you've obviously had a nice time I won't ruin it by scolding you about the state of your dress," Susan sniffed, a little teasing and a little serious. Gwen shot an amused glance at Peter, who raised his eyebrows at her as though to say 'I told you so'. This look did not go unnoticed.

Lucy grinned, "Did you like the lunch I had prepared for you? I thought the roast beef would be a nice surprise." She watched Gwen pour some more water, but didn't let her answer the question. "You know, Gwen, you look rather…flustered. Did something happen?"

Though the nature of her question was obvious to her siblings, Gwen was clueless. She raised an eyebrow and said, "No. Well, other than the riding, I suppose it might be from our fall in the river." She chortled at this, and Peter grinned.

Lucy laughed as well. "You both fell in, then? How traumatizing." She made it sound like it wasn't traumatizing at all, though, but rather wicked, as though falling into a river wasn't all they'd done together. Peter shot his younger sister a look that went completely unheeded.

"I've never asked you this, Gwen, but what's your type of man?"

Gwen wasn't stupid. She stared at Lucy for a moment as comprehension spread through her, and then grinned in a very similar, mischievous manner that had Lucy mentally backtracking. "My type of _man?"_ she leaned in and murmured, "It's not someone who drags me into a river and watches me rip my petticoats away, if that's what you're asking."

What a lie, what a silly lie. But it did the trick, and Peter was blushing as a result and it was rather adorable. Gwen's eyes sparkled wickedly at him as he jumped up to defend his honor. "It was an accident! And I didn't watch you rip your petticoats, thank you very much - "

Gwen burst into laughter and shook her head, deciding she should put the record straight for Peter's sake, because he looked rather embarrassed and she was beginning to feel just a little bad. "No, he didn't," she admitted, and then said, "Your brother was a perfect gentleman."

Peter stared at her for a moment before sighing in exasperation and moving to her chair. "This gentleman would like to escort you to your rooms, since you don't seem to be hungry." She grinned up at him and slid her hand easily into his, allowing him to help her up.

"How very kind of you," she teased, and together they walked from the room in much the same manner as they'd walked into it. Flushed, stumbling, and together.

Once they were gone, Lucy and Susan burst into giggles that made Edmund roll his eyes. "She likes him, I knew it! I knew she did!"

"How do you know _that?"_ Edmund muttered, not understanding the world of women and wondering if he really wanted to.

Susan gaped at him, "They were blatantly flirting! Didn't you notice? It was so obvious!" Then she turned to Lucy, "Did you see Peter's eyes when he looked at her? I've never seen him look at a girl like that before."

Edmund rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore his sisters as they continued to swoon.

* * *

**A/N:** _You wouldn't believe how many times I've rewritten this chapter D: The last couple of reviews left me a little unsure, not in a bad way! But more in a challenging I-need-to-figure-out-what-the-hell-I'm-doing sort of way lol _

_I'm trying not to make the romance proceed too quickly. The purpose of this chapter is just to have Gwen and Peter get to know each other more intimately. Trust me when I say that Peter and her won't actually be 'getting together' for quite a while. It'd be no fun if they automatically fell in love right from the start! __Anyway, the first arc of the story is nearly completed and I'll soon be reintroducing Ethan and the mutants back into it. The action should start to pick up within the next couple chapters, don't worry! I mainly just wanted to get some character development down first and all that! _

_Thank you so much for the reviews and the support! :3 Please let me know what you think about the chapter, your thoughts are always appreciated!_


	6. Convictions

**Soldier 642**

**By: **_CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Status: **_Worried. Unsure as to why._

**Mission: **_Original: incomplete/unavailable. New: Learn the sword. And also how not to fall in love._

**Status of Mission: **_Failing. Outlook not so great. Though I am getting better at the sword._

_::::_

During the next week, Gwen spent a lot of time with Susan. Peter, too, when he was free, but they never got to spend another full day together like they had before. Now, they saw each other rarely, in the halls or during meals. Susan was nice to be around. She was calm, gentle, and brought out a side of Gwen that she hadn't really known existed: the more feminine, womanly side. And…there was also the part of Susan that was anything but gentle.

"Hold the bow more like this," she instructed, touching Gwen's arm and lifting it higher. Her eyes sparked in concentration as she studied Gwen's form, which was haphazard at best. But Gwen learned fast, especially when in came to fighting techniques. "Now pull the arrow back. Aim for the target…and let loose." Gwen did. But the arrow didn't go where it was meant. It landed in the grass a few feet away from the target instead.

Susan shrugged, "Well, you'll get better." And Gwen just laughed and shook her head, putting the bow on the ground and going to fetch the arrows that were sticking in all sorts of places.

"Want to go again?" Susan wondered as Gwen ambled slowly back to where she stood. She was answered with a shrug, and then finally a consenting nod. Gwen grinned, "I guess I'd better at least try to improve. I've nothing else to do today anyway."

Susan agreed. This time, however, she pulled her own bow out and began to practice with Gwen instead of watching her. Gwen studied Susan for the first few shots, admiring the easy way she hit the targets, and then slipped an arrow onto her bow and got into position. Her arrow hit the ground just below the target.

"Gwen, I was wondering about something…and I wanted to ask you about it," Susan suddenly said, her voice a little unsure. She waited until Gwen had already fired her arrow before asking the actual question, knowing that it was probably more intimate than Gwen was prepared for. "I mentioned your parents once, at dinner. You don't talk about them. Why…why is that?"

It was true, Gwen wasn't prepared for the question. She spun around to face Susan, green eyes wide in surprise, and stood stock still, wondering if she should answer. In the end, she did. Susan was her friend, after all, and though she rarely spoke of her past, Gwen knew that some day she had to face it.

She turned back around and frowned. Her voice was slow as she responded, "They were sent away along with the other civilians, to beyond the desert. I don't know what ever happened to them. We weren't allowed to keep in touch."

It was like that for all the soldiers in Unit 73, and the other Units as well. Any Unit directly near the fighting had to send its civilians away. Anyone who couldn't fight had to go. Had Gwen been a few years younger, she could've gone with them, but she'd already gotten the Itch. She wanted to stay behind and fight, just as well as the men. She'd wanted to be a soldier. Once the civilians were past the desert, no one knew what became of them. Rumors spoke of free villages that took them in, far beyond the reach of the mutants, but that dream couldn't be proven. Could just as well be false.

Susan saw the crumbled shoulders of her friend, though Gwen's face was turned the opposite way. She saw what the question had done to her and felt bad for even asking it. She slipped her hand on Gwen's shoulder, and was glad when it wasn't shaken off. Instead, Gwen reached up and grabbed the hand, finding comfort in the gesture. She turned, looking at Susan with a soft smile.

"It was better that way, I suppose. They couldn't be hurt, and I didn't have to worry about them during the nighttime battles. Those mutants are fierce. They would have ripped the civilians apart."

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. And then, unable to sate her curiosity, Susan asked, "Just what exactly _are_ these mutants you keep mentioning? You've never outright said before."

Gwen looked at her, surprised. Had she really not explained it? She'd mentioned it many times in the past, but had never gone into detail about her enemy. How strange to have left such a thing out! Gwen picked up her bow and began to explain, "The mutants used to be human, like us. Some of them were soldiers from the Western Command. But then they got the Disease, and you're not human after getting the Disease. They turn into mutants almost immediately, and then…well, they're like dead bodies. They can't properly talk, or walk, or shoot. They scream, though…horrible, bloody screams…and they're damn hard to kill, almost impossible, unless you get a head shot." She shivered impulsively, shying away from the mental image of the gray skinned nightmares. She hadn't thought of them at all since coming to Narnia, not like this. Not in such a vivid way.

Susan peered into her friends face with a growing horror. She rarely saw such nightmares in those eyes, but it was obvious that the reminder of her own world sent Gwen into grim worry. She put both hands on her shoulders to try to pull her out of wherever she'd gone, but it was a few minutes before Gwen was finally able to blink away the waking terrors. And then, she smiled a shaky smile that was very fake.

"That sounds…that sounds…" Susan paused, unable to finish. It sounded terrible, it sounded much more terrible than anything she'd ever experienced.

Gwen hummed in agreement. Susan didn't need to finish her sentence for Gwen to understand. She pulled herself away and grabbed her quiver of arrow, "I'm sorry, Susan, but I think I'll go take a walk. Clear my head." Because she was suddenly feeling this aching, bitter isolation. She was the only one in Narnia who _knew_, knew the horrors of her world, knew the war. And she missed Ethan, so dearly that it made her gasp, made her drown, made her want to cry.

Susan said nothing, nothing at all as she watched her leave.

::::

It was with a great haste that Susan entered Peter's office later that day. She was pleased that Edmund and Lucy were already there, having been summoned by Susan herself. Normally, Susan wouldn't have brought them all together so late in the day, for dinner was already finished and they should have been allowing the evening to wind down comfortably. There would be no comfort tonight, though, not for Susan.

Gwen's words that afternoon had made Susan summon her siblings together. Her description of the mutants, and what they had done, and how they had come to be had struck her as terrifying. Though she knew it would do no great good, Susan had to relay the story to someone else and lift the burden of the knowledge from her shoulders.

"Gwen told me a frightful thing today, about her world," she began, almost immediately. She paced the rug before the fire, body rigid with discomfort as her brothers and sister listened with curiosity. There were few things that made Susan so uncomfortable. "About the mutants."

The mutants. They knew little about these strange beings, other than the fact that they were the Enemy in Gwen's world. Peter had simply assumed that they called themselves 'mutants' because it scared away those that might want them dead. He was certainly not prepared for the explanation Susan began to give.

"They're like dead bodies, Gwen told me. They have organs like humans, but they can't talk and they can't walk properly. They're mutated from a thing called the Disease, and anyone who contracts this illness becomes like them."

Edmund raised his eyebrows, not fully grasping her words. He also didn't understand why it made his sister so upset. Surely, she was overreacting. There were no mutants in Narnia, no cause to be worried. He leaned forward and said, "Susan, why does this make you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous!" she immediately responded, paused, and then resumed her pacing. Lucy and Edmund exchanged glances. "I'm simply trying to understand. Before, Aslan said that there would be some great evil in Narnia. That was just after Gwen came to Cair Paravel. Doesn't this seem strange to you all?"

Peter leaned back in his chair. Truthfully, his mind was elsewhere. Not very far away, but not on the same path as his sister's. He thought of Gwen, of her Unit, of her war. He thought of how she fought these strange mutants, and if she was very afraid to face them. He wondered if he'd be, if he met them in battle. It couldn't have been much worse than meeting any of his previous foes in battle. There were many frightful creatures in Narnia that he had fought.

"Peter!"

He was pulled from his thoughts rather abruptly to find himself staring at the faces of his siblings. Lucy was the only one who seemed at all aware of his thoughts, and he cleared his throat and did his best to ignore her expression. Susan rolled her eyes, "I asked if you thought this was at all interesting."

He shrugged and rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I suppose. I'd like to ask Gwen more about these mutants. But there's nothing we can do right now, Susan." Not for Gwen. Narnia would heal her in time, if she was truly that scarred. And perhaps she was, just as every soldier was to a degree. Perhaps that was the reason Susan had called them together, because she was worried about Gwen, not about the mutants. It seemed a more valid reason, to Peter. And he was glad she'd told them, because it gave further insight into Gwen's personality, a thing he craved to discover.

He stood up. "I think I'll retire to my rooms. I've had an exhausting day," he admitted, clearing away that papers on his desk to work on tomorrow. He hadn't come close to finishing the paperwork, but tomorrow was a new day and he'd tackle it then. "Goodnight."

His family muttered their good-nights, but no one else got up to leave. Susan huffed and fell into a nearby chair, hugging her arms around herself as though cold. She wasn't, not entirely, but rather afraid. Perhaps she was the only one who could see it, but Aslan's words were causing her a lot of grief. A great evil would enter Narnia, and the mention of the mutants gave Susan a chill that felt far too much like a premonition than it seemed to have any right to be.

::::

Gwen met the next day with a sense of foreboding. Her dreams had been active, and frightening. Susan's questions the day before had undoubtedly caused her nightmares. She sat in bed for a while before she got up, and then she took her time in pulling on a simple dress. When she looked in the mirror at her reflection, all she could see was a tattered girl in a tan camouflage jumpsuit, lips dry and cracked, hair messy, eyes haunted.

She needed to clear her head. It was much too early to do anything with Susan or Lucy, and Edmund enjoyed his sleep almost as much as his food, so he was also out of the question. She slipped out of her room and wandered the bright, sunlit hallways for a while before deciding to go outside.

The Narnian sun hung delightfully above her, warming her skin as she moved through the courtyard. There were various others awake, and lots of servants and maids and cooks readying the castle for the day. A few of them were Dwarves, a few the half-beast creatures Gwen had encountered on her first day in Narnia. She'd forgotten what they were called.

She didn't linger long there. As soon as she left the stone courtyard, Gwen slipped down the path that circled the castle. It was the same path that Edmund had firstly showed her only a week or so before. The gravel crunched beneath her feet with every step she took, and it disrupted her thoughts so much that she moved to the grass, walking just alongside the pathway instead. It felt better that way, for she still wore the delicate slippers, slippers which were much too pretty for her.

The morning was beautiful, but Gwen could only stare at her feet as she walked. She lifted her eyes here and there to view the archery range, and the stables far in the distance, but her gaze was unseeing. Behind her lids were images of burning flesh, high-pitched wails, stumbling, moaning figures. She jerked her eyes away from the edge of the forest, because the trees looked like mutants, their long branches reaching out to her. She kept her eyes resolutely on the ground until she reached the indoor training facility.

It was empty. Both indoors and outdoors. Perhaps it was too early for the soldiers to be awake, or perhaps Edmund or the other captains were just letting the men off easier today. Usually the fields were filled with early risers, practicing the arts of battle before the sun even shed it's light. But Gwen was glad she was alone this morning. Company sounded sour to her.

She stood for a moment in the center of the room, sweeping her eyes back and forth. The weapons shone silvery, bright in the still-dim room. The sun had not yet reached the contours of this place, and it made Gwen feel safe somehow, as though she could remain hidden here for eternity. She stepped toward a rack of swords and palmed one, lifting it slowly into the air. Edmund hadn't yet allowed her to wield an actual sword during their fencing matches. She was still too much of a beginner, still too weak to properly swing the heavy metal. But she wasn't really weak at all, and the sword rather felt like a sniper rifle. Her gun was much heavier, laden with all sorts of extra things that would make it easier for her to use. The silencer itself weighed more than this sword. How silly of Edmund to think she was so inexperienced, when she'd been on the battle field her entire life.

She swung the sword experimentally a few times, weighing it in her hand and figuring out the flex of her muscles. Then she returned to the center of the room and set up a practice dummy, pulling one of the hay and wood ones from the opposite end of the room. After just a few minutes, she was going over the moves that Edmund had shown her.

They were intricate, some of them. But most were not. She'd only learned a few and didn't get to practice them often. Lately, she'd seen less of Edmund because there was something going on in the lands he owned, and it called for much of his attention. He wouldn't go into detail, but had simply said that there were 'sightings'. Of what, Gwen wasn't sure.

She must have been there nearly an hour before anything else happened. She took a few breaks here and there, helping herself to some of the wine that had been left on the side tables. It felt refreshing, and made her want to fight more, to get ever better. In Narnia, she was rather useless. Here, there were no guns to test her mettle. There was only medieval weapons, weapons she'd only known from the myths and stories about long, long ago.

It was when she was practicing her upper swing that Gwen encountered a new opponent. Her sword was just beginning it's curve upward when it hit an obstacle, and the clashing sound of steel on steel filled the room like a loud toll. Gwen gasped aloud and looked up into the face of Peter, who was looking down at her in a half amused, half serious manner. He didn't seem to have been expecting to see her there.

"Peter!" she pulled back, sword dangling uselessly at her side. The blonde king spent a moment reveling in the sound of his name, and the breathless fashion in which it left Gwen's lips, before he spoke.

"Edmund's right, you are getting better." He smiled down at her and noticed that the smile she gave him in return didn't really meet her eyes. He continued on, "I was just walking by when I heard someone inside, and I thought it might be my brother. Imagine my surprise to see you instead!" He chuckled a little.

Gwen smiled. "Are you busy this morning?" she asked as the silence lingered, and her efforts to dispel the awkward atmosphere paid off.

"Quite busy, yes," he admitted, and then stared at Gwen for a moment before saying, "Not too busy, though, to spend a little time with you. If you'll have me, of course." If you'll have me, indeed. She'd have as much of him as he'd willingly give her, and the suddenness of the thought made Gwen's cheeks explode in a light blush. She felt that strange shyness overcome her again, and it caught her off guard, made her breathless, made her excited.

In a hurried, flushed voice, Gwen said, "Maybe you'd teach me more of the sword?" Because she didn't want to leave the room. With Peter inside, it seemed more intimate, more alone.

Peter nodded, feeling a little relieved at how well she'd taken to the question. The strange aura in which she carried about her this morning made Gwen seem different, almost like the Gwen that had stood before him on her first day in Narnia.

He stepped closer to her, "I'll teach you a move that will knock Edmund straight off his feet, if you want. Just don't tell him I taught it to you." He grinned childishly, and Gwen laughed, feeling better already in his company. There was something so easy about Peter, so grand and yet so simple. It made conversing with him like breathing. "Then by all means," Gwen said, and lifted up her sword.

They spent twenty minutes practicing the new move. It was a lower curve, in which the blade swept past the shins. Peter explained how it was Edmund's one weakness at the sword, and how you had to time the move just right for it to have the desired effect. He showed her how to parry and then swing, slipping the blade by the ankles before darting it back into the air.

After Peter thought she'd gotten the move right, he asked her if she wanted to have a spar. She agreed, excited at the prospect of watching Peter's stance, and the artful way he moved his sword. They slipped into the fight easily, Peter going slow for Gwen's sake. She was still clumsy, but he could tell that she could be great if given the right motivation and time. She was already battle-ready, and moved with a confidence of a practiced soldier. It was only the technical movements that made her shaky.

He swung his sword high and she blocked it, stepping close to gain the right momentum so that he didn't crash it back down. For a split second, they were nearly chest to chest, and then the second was shattered when Gwen ducked and tore her sword away, dancing behind Peter to attack at his side. He was already ready for her, though, and the recurring sound of steel clashing reverberated once more around the room.

They made short conversation during the spar, Peter mainly commenting on her form and Gwen sometimes attempting to goad him on. He never took the bait, but he did find amusement in some of the words she choose. They ended up sharing many a laugh when they were supposed to be attacking.

Peter, of course, was infinitely better at the sword than Gwen. He'd had years of experience, and plenty of time to hone his skill. So it was with the seasoned grace of a swordsman that he ended up backing Gwen into the corner. She tried to stop him but he upped his control, pushing her back with bashing, intricate moves that she couldn't hope to meet. Instead of being angry or upset, however, Gwen grew all the more excited. For as Peter backed her up, he pressed closer, closer, drawing nearer until they were once again chest to chest. And this time, no attacks interrupted the silence.

She could feel his breath fanning over her face. She could feel the tension in his body as he towered over her. His eyes were bottomless pools of emotion, of the intent look of someone wanting to relay a silent message. And Gwen instinctually knew what that message was, which was why she slipped her eyes half closed and didn't turn away as he moved ever closer.

He was going to kiss her. Oh god, he was going to kiss her. She could read his intentions in the way his body angled forward, in his eyes, in his parted lips. She wet her mouth, feeling his sword arm suddenly slacken as he leaned closer. Her hand came up to rest upon his shoulder, and his eyes flashed with a stark, hungry sort of darkness that seemed to wash over her, drowning her, encompassing her. She wasn't sure if her hand was a barrier or an invitation, but she was ready to give into him, had been ready for quite a while in fact, and the realization of this submission made her that much more eager.

_Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. _Her eyes seemed to scream, and Peter was about to, was leaning in to take her mouth with his when a sudden screech broke them apart, making them jerk away. Cold reality set in and Gwen swallowed thickly, looking anywhere but at Peter. He stepped back, annoyed. Not at Gwen, but at the failed intimacy that could have been. For a moment, the room was deathly quiet and bathed in a terrible awkwardness. But then comprehension dawned on Peter's face.

"Gwen, I think…I think that was Lucy's voice!" their eyes collided in blue and green and the awkwardness shifted immediately to worry. In less than a second, they were running out the door, looking wildly around. It was indeed Lucy, but she wasn't in any immediate danger. She was pale, about fifty feet away from them near the stables, her eyes trained onto the forest behind Peter and Gwen. The foreboding feeling once again crashed over Gwen, spilling through her like a nightmare. She knew, she _knew_ exactly what she'd see when she turned around.

"What the _hell_ _is _that thing?!" Peter cursed, and Gwen cringed as the sudden inhuman screech of her Enemy filled her senses. The mutant was alone, ambling toward them with bare hands and no weapon in sight. But it was dreadful, terrible, and it made the sense of safety that Gwen had associated with Narnia shatter. Narnia was not safe if mutants were walking around in it.

Her fingers moved instinctually to her where her belt should have been, but she hadn't worn it since entering Narnia, and there was no gun attached to her side or strapped to her back. All she had was a sword. Her eyes darkened.

"…Gwen, don't you even think - Gwen!"

She stepped forward, body taut like a soldier's, sword dancing at her side. The weight of it was nothing, nothing at all, and yet it seemed to use all her strength to lift it into the air. The mutant watched her come with soulless eyes, it's screech getting louder with every step she took.

She'd never gotten this close to one before. She wished for her gun, for the safety of a long-distance kill. But the sword was what would ultimately end the life of this creature, and it was with a great sense of destructive power that Gwen fearlessly swung the blade at the mutant's neck. The head was sliced off in one move, the two parts of the body falling onto the grass. The limbs still twitched, the eyes still blinked. It took a long time to truly kill a mutant, but the head was off and she would wait. She'd wait until the fingers stopped grasping and the mouth stopped silently screaming and the gray, melted skin turned to dust.

Silence. The wind lamented calmly, but no one spoke. Lucy had gone to her brother's side and was clutching at his arm. Peter was staring at Gwen's back, all thoughts of their almost kiss drifting farther and farther from his mind. How could he think of romance when his country was suddenly in danger? These creatures…they came from Gwen's world. And he was suddenly inconsolably furious at the rather unfair thought that Gwen herself was responsible for bringing them here, for leading them into his peaceful kingdom.

"You! _You_ led them here!" she turned, eyes haunted as she looked into Peter's. He seemed upset, angry. He stepped forward, scowling, "_You've_ brought that thing here. This is your fault!"

She gaped at him, the haunted look draining away immediately. Her expression turned fiery, just as furious as Peter's. She walked up to him and sneered, "I didn't bring that mutant to your land. How dare you! This isn't my fault, Peter. I have no idea what the mutant was doing here!"

He exploded, "Well I do. _They_ must be the creatures being sighted in the Lantern Waste. They have to be, which means there are hundreds of them, Gwen. How are we supposed to go to war with those…those _things_ that don't _die?!"_

"Peter - " Lucy tried, her voice soft and shaky. She could see Gwen's eyes, and what was beneath her anger. Her brother was making Gwen feel terrible, and Lucy wasn't blind. It was obvious that Gwen really did feel at fault for the mess that was suddenly being thrown at Narnia. She tried again, but Peter's voice overrode her own.

"I need to think about this." Peter sighed, turning stiffly away. "This is ridiculous." And he walked off quickly, muttering beneath his breath as Gwen stared sadly at his back.

Lucy put a hand on her arm but said nothing. There was nothing the needed to be said. Not right now. Not yet. Gwen sighed heavily and sat down on the grass beside her kill, waiting. Waiting for the final moment of death, for the fingers to stop moving, for the mutant to die.

* * *

_Ah, sorry for the long waits between chapters. My summer's been really busy so far. I'm taking 2 classes and working a lot D: On the upside, the next chapter is half-way written, so hopefully I'll get an update posted within the week! _

_How'd you like the almost kiss? Too soon? The story's beginning to go into the 2nd arch now, which means more action/battle scenes/overall badass-ness, so look out for that! :) _


	7. Enter Soldier 598

**Soldier 642**

**By: **_CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Status of Men: **_Demoralized, again_

**Status of Mission: **_Incomplete_

**Casualty Count: **_Lt. Colonel soldier 462, soldiers 378, 458, 859_

**Notes: **_Bastard mutants casualties seem to be somehow greater than ours. Will be attempting a series of Guerilla attacks as a full out ambush would require more men than we have. More information when available. Over and out._

_::::_

_Soldier 598, Ethan_

The air was freezing despite it being the edge of summer. The daytime desert atmosphere turned frighteningly different after the sun slipped past the horizon. The men of Sub-Unit 16 would have loved to start a fire to warm themselves, but they were in the middle of mutant infested territory. Such a thing would be suicidal.

Soldier 598 sighed and glanced around at the makeshift camp. He'd taken up the role of leadership, being a higher rank than the others and Gwen's right hand man. It was hard, damn hard to make decisions out here. He missed Gwen more than he ever had, and it didn't help that she was thought of as dead.

She had to be, even though her body had never been recovered. The mutant attack had apparently been terrible, though Ethan himself hadn't been there to witness it. The fact that he'd missed the fight, and the opportunity to save Gwen, made him sick. Too sick to eat, too sick to sleep, too sick to give proper orders. But he tried, because he was the Captain of the group and someone had to pay attention.

"Captain," one of the men said to his right. Ethan turned his head, his eyes opening half way to peer at him through the darkness. It was one of the medically trained snipers on their team, who was knowledgeable in both weaponry and healing. A valuable person to have in this frigid, desolate wilderness.

His name was Jack, his number somewhere in the thousands. He'd been posted to Unit 73 later than normal, and was relatively new to their group. Wasn't too good at making friends, either, but only because he was quiet and stayed to himself. Didn't cause trouble, unless it had to do with blowing the head off a mutant. Man was a damn good shot to have made it onto the team so late in the year.

He offered over a half-eaten can of assorted fruits, and took them back when Ethan shook his head. Then he said in a smooth, rough-around-the-edges voice, "We're near the Final Outpost. The men've been wondering if you're planning to stop for supplies. We're running low on medic kits."

Among other things, but he didn't point out the fact that they had a very limited amount of ammunition left, or cans of food. Ethan was grateful for this. It made him feel better, if only just a little, about their condition.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, running his fingers over the scruff that was growing on his cheeks. It'd been a week since he'd last shaved, but most days he couldn't be bothered. This was the wilderness, not an outpost. There were no morning wake-up calls here, no routine checks. No Gwen. He frowned. "What'd you think? About the supplies. How long can we last before we need to go back?"

Jack paused a moment, eyes intent as he calculated the number of medic boxes, cans, and ammunition they had left. He was a quick thinker, good at math, good at medicine, smart. Then he said slowly, "Maybe a week. Maybe less if we run into mutants." Then in a slower, softer voice, he said, "Captain…I don't think the Lt. Colonel is still alive. I think…maybe you should stop looking for her."

Ethan stared at him, surprised that he had the courage to say aloud what the other men had not. It was true that Ethan still hoped Gwen was alive. Even though the odds were so against him, he hoped. Because her body hadn't been found, even after they had gone back to the battlefield to see the carnage. His men had told him of the injuries she'd sustained, and how she'd blacked out. But no one had any record of her after that, because by then the mutants had surged forward, and the chaos that had ensued made it impossible to look after anyone but yourself.

Ethan looked away, staring hard at the sky above him. The stars were the only semblance of beauty in this isolated landscape. That's what Gwen used to say, when she couldn't stand the desert anymore. When she couldn't stand the heat and the sun and the sand.

"…She was a damn good woman," Jack said, his voice shifting into something that hinted at the feelings Ethan was struggling with. Jack clapped his hand on Ethan's arm and murmured, "I didn't know her like you did, but anyone could see how much you cared for each other." And Ethan almost, almost laughed at the understatement of his words. He didn't care for Gwen, he loved her. He loved her. And she could very well be dead.

Jack looked at him one last time before getting up and leaving him to his thoughts, the opened can of food the only reminder that he was there. With a sigh, Soldier 598 picked up the can and stared to eat. His men were wondering what he was doing, and he couldn't just leave them here to die. They had a mission to complete. Tomorrow, he would truly take Gwen's place as leader and fulfill his duty. And then…then he would look for her. He'd look until he found her, dead or alive.

::::

_Narnia, Great Hall_

"How many have been sighted?"

The question was directed at Edmund, who sat beside Peter as the two poured over a map. It was inappropriate during dinner, when they should have been focused on eating. But Peter and Edmund hardly touched their food or noticed the looks Susan was sending them. They were too busy bouncing ideas back and forth, uncaring of their current company or the fact that they should move their council to a better suited room.

Edmund paused, grappled for the number that he'd only recently been informed of, and relayed it to his brother. "Nearly a hundred, and there are more coming. Not sure from _where."_ This was muttered with a bitterness that had everything to do with the hopelessness that had settled around the table. What could they do? They fought with swords, but these mutants carried guns. The only good thing about their situation was that the mutants would eventually run out of ammunition, since they came into Narnia accidentally. But that would only be good after the first wave of fighting tore Peter's men apart.

Gwen stared at her plate. She hadn't touched her food. She'd initially been starving, but her appetite had quickly soured once this conversation had begun. Peter's accusations hurtled around in her head and made her feel sick, sick with the thought that this was her fault, all her fault. He was right to blame her. Who else could he blame? She'd been the one to open whatever portal that had brought these mutants here.

"The problem lies in our inability to fight back," Peter muttered darkly, staring hard at an area of the map. It was true, of course. How could swords and maces hope to win against the long range aptitude of a gun? And besides that, the Narnians weren't used to fighting such an enemy. Though they would fight on their own land, they would have clear disadvantages.

"Give me back my guns," Gwen suddenly said, and an immediate silence fell over the table. She could feel Peter's eyes boring into hers, and it was with great fortitude that she lifted her gaze to meet his. He looked surprised, but his eyes were steel and it was more of a how-dare-you-interrupt-our-council surprise than anything else. But still, Gwen persisted. "Give me my sniper rifle and I'll go out and kill them." All of them. Every last bastard mutant who dared to sully this perfect place.

Lucy put a hand on Gwen's arm, but it was shaken off. Peter had been absolutely right. This was utter ridiculous. She was angry that they were looking at her like they were, as though she was incompetent, and silly. She was a soldier and this was her job, and she'd go out to kill these mutants with her bare hands if she had to, as long as Peter would stop looking at her with that face of…of guilt?

She stood up, nearly knocking over her chair in the meantime. Then she walked over to where Peter and Edmund were sitting and leaned over the map, her sharp eyes taking in military strategies, landmarks, anything that could prove useful. She found immediately what she was looking for and shoved a finger onto the sharp inclination of rock. "There."

Edmund frowned in confusion, "What do you mean, there?"

He was rewarded an exasperated, impatient look, "Station as many archers as you have right here. They'll need to be high above ground to get a good shot of the mutants. And it'll have to be dark, cause mutant eyes are shit."

Susan choked on her wine at the vulgarity that flew from Gwen's mouth. She was about to say something, but then she saw Gwen and a sudden realization took a hold of her. Gwen looked…well, she looked like she had made these kinds of plans many times in the past. She spoke with the confidence of a seasoned strategist. She knew all about these mutants, knew how they thought, how they acted. And if she wanted her guns then Susan would get them for her, because suddenly she trusted Gwen with the entirety of Narnia, a fact that she wasn't quite sure what to do with.

"And…right here," Gwen pointed to an outcrop of rock, higher than the other. "That's where I'll be posted, at first."

"At first?!"

She glanced at Peter, who was staring at her with those hard blue eyes. But it wasn't quite the same hardness as before. This was gentler, somehow, more concerned, but still steel. She raised an eyebrow, "Yes. I'll move closer to the castle as the mutants advance." It was said in such a flippant, obvious way that Peter had to grind his teeth together to keep from retorting.

It was Edmund who replied, not Peter, but his words would have been similar to his brother's. "Gwen…I think you should stay behind with Susan and Lucy - "

"Edmund," Susan cut in, standing up suddenly. Her voice was brittle and hard, and it made her brother's turn to her in surprise. She set her eyes on Gwen, "I think we should allow Gwen to show us what she can do. We should give her the guns back. They do belong to her, after all."

Silence, and then Peter and Edmund spoke up in sync, but were immediately cut off by Susan as she continued, "Gwen's our best bet to winning this horrid war! Listen to her! She's fought these things before. You might not trust her, but I do, and I plan to give her the guns."

And with that, Susan turned and walked away, back straight and face set in determination. Gwen stared after her in surprise, as well as everyone else, and then Lucy stood as well. "I'll help her get them," she said, and then hurried after her sister, leaving her stubborn brothers behind.

"Great, just great. Just look what you've done!" Peter exploded, standing up and turning to Gwen. His eyes were back to steel, dark and angry and blaming. Gwen swallowed thickly as he muttered, "Now you're turning my sisters against me. What next, the whole of Narnia itself?"

She only set her jaw, glanced at Edmund, and turned on her heel. Ridiculous, he was being. Simply ridiculous. He knew it as well. As Peter watched Gwen storm out of the great hall, he collapsed fitfully into his chair and sighed. He was angry, furious, but not really at Gwen. He was angry at the way he was treating her, at the war, at the threat of these creatures on his country. He hadn't meant to accuse Gwen in such a way, not really, not truly.

"Damn it," he muttered, and Edmund hummed in agreement. He put his hand on his brother's arm and sighed. This wasn't even close to over yet, but it was already taking such a toll on everyone. Edmund only hoped that Gwen and Peter could make up before it all ended.

::::

"Gwen?"

She didn't turn. She was too busy staring out the window at the training grounds, at where the unmistakable figure of Peter stood speaking to one of his generals. The Narnian sun all but turned his hair to gold. He looked magnificent down there. Like a king.

Edmund sighed a little and came up beside her. He cast his eyes over her for a moment, taking in the slightly disheveled state of her. Gwen had never quite gotten the hang of the Narnian dress. His sisters made it seem graceful and simple, but on Gwen the dress made her wild, untamed, even a little melancholy. His eyes shifted to her face. Her hair was braided, in the way it'd been when Edmund had first seen her. Usually, Susan insisted upon doing something more intricate with Gwen's hair. But Edmund thought it looked good like this, more natural, more lovely.

"He truly hates me." The words were so sudden and unpredicted that Edmund did a double take. He stared at Gwen, and then moved his gaze down to his brother, who was now speaking to another. He supposed it would make sense for Gwen to think that, considering the harsh words Peter had recently said to her. But what she didn't see was the look in his brother's eyes whenever she entered a room, the admiration, the awe. She couldn't see past Peter's stubbornness because she didn't know him like Edmund did.

Edmund sighed again, softer this time. "That isn't true. He's just…he just wants to make sure everyone's safe."

But Gwen didn't hear his words. She moved her eyes to the forest. She murmured, "Maybe this is my fault. I did bring the mutants here. If it weren't for me, this would never have happened."

People wouldn't die, Peter wouldn't hate her - Peter wouldn't _know_ her, which would perhaps be better that way. Before Edmund could really respond, Gwen turned and began to walk away.

And then stopped and walked back, because suddenly there was a lot of noise going on below. She pushed past Edmund, who was also peering down at the training grounds, his eyes dark and serious.

"What's going on?" Gwen muttered, but received no answer.

The men below were suddenly lining up, their faces mixed expressions of horror and disgust. Peter had grabbed a sword and was stepping in front of them, his eyes staring hard at the edge of the forest…where five or six mutants were suddenly ambling out of.

"Christ," Gwen cursed, and reached behind her. But her back was empty, her sniper rifle gone, and the heavenly weight of it leaving her out of her element. She growled and tore her hand to her hip, but her revolver was also gone and Gwen could only watch, watch as the mutant bastards raised their own blasted guns and -

Shot.

Shot, shot, shot shot shot.

Faintly, ever so faintly, "God damned monsters."

And Gwen was suddenly grasping at the paneled glass, watching through the cold field below as the sight of two men came into view. Two men who were certainly not mutants. Two men who she knew, one very very well, and one vaguely.

"Ethan," Gwen breathed, and then turned and ran.

It was in this fashion that Gwen stumbled onto the training grounds five minutes later, having run from the castle all the way down to where the soldiers were. Edmund was following at a distance, looking a little uncertain as he watched Gwen throw herself into the fray.

The two men hasn't appeared to be mutants, so Peter had them surrounded. The fact that they were human had him on edge, and there was also the uniforms they wore. Tan camouflage, sniper rifles strapped to their backs, small duffle bags over their shoulders. Their effects now lay in a pile a few feet away, of course, as Peter wasn't sure if they could be trusted. They did just take down five mutants though, so he was more grateful than threatened.

That is, until Gwen came suddenly rushing into the circle. "Ethan!" and flung her arms around one of the man's necks, nearly pushing them both to the ground. That was when Peter started to feel threatened.

"Gwen?!"

His arms went immediately around her, tugging her close, close, closer than was publically appropriate for Narnian society. But neither were truly Narnian, and Ethan and Gwen only saw each other. And then, just like that, Gwen's expression darkened and Ethan swallowed thickly, letting her go just in time for her to begin hitting him.

"You bastard! You went against my orders! I told you that _I_ was going to the cliff! I outta demote you, I should kick you out of the unit, I should report you to General Six - "

"Gwen, Gwen," Ethan slowly sat up, his hands moving to her shoulders and then her hands. He took them into his own and pressed them tightly in his grasp. He was still shocked, still so happy to see her, and her anger couldn't put a damper on his happiness for anything. He turned his eyes onto hers and saw her fury drain from her bright green gaze, like water from an overturned cup. "Gwen, I thought you were…we thought…"

Gwen's impenetrable gaze softened. She leaned in and threw her arms around Ethan again. The force of her hug had them both tumbling back into their previous position, but neither cared. Now, they were filled with a melancholy sort of sadness, and it stole the happy atmosphere and replaced it with a hollow, cold sort of feeling. A hollow feeling that wasn't only shared between them.

Peter Pevensie had never felt true jealously. He'd never wanted anything that he couldn't have. He'd never felt the unquenchable desire for companionship before, never had it pound against his skull, or wind around the entirety of his thoughts. But he'd be damned if he was happy about this newcomer's entry into his country, even though he took care of those mutants with an aptitude that none of Peter's men had.

Edmund glanced at his brother and saw it clear as day, clear as the Narnian sun as it rose up above them. He stepped forward, put a hand on Peter's shoulder, and took over. "Gwen? Maybe you could fill us in on what's going on. But first, how about we get inside?"

Gwen pulled herself away from Ethan and nodded. She didn't look behind at Edmund. Ethan was the only one who could see the tears that had built up in the corners of her eyes. Only Ethan. He sat up and touched her elbow, drawing her from her vacancy.

Once Gwen was up on her feet, Edmund stepped forward and took her arm before Ethan could. Gwen didn't seem to mind. She leaned against Edmund heavily, feeling drained somehow, as though her emotions had taken a severe beating and had barely scraped through. Peter threw Edmund a thankful glance, and then turned to his men to give orders about disposing the mutant bodies.

Ten minutes later they found themselves in one of the northern council rooms, sitting around a roaring fire. Ethan and his unnamed companion looked entirely out of place in the lush furnishings of the room. Even Gwen looked wild beside her men, though she was in a Narnian dress. Peter tried not to think about how she always looked wild, regardless of what she was wearing, and how much he liked her unexpected mannerisms, or the wilderness of her foresty eyes.

"You names?" Edmund inquired, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Ethan looked up at him and then glanced at Gwen, who raised a brow in return.

"Soldier 598, sir, Captain Ethan of Sub Unit - "

"16, yes, we know," Edmund interrupted, smiling just a bit. It shattered the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon the room and made Ethan grin.

"I'm Jack, sir, Soldier 1092," Jack spoke up, leaning forward as though intent on being recognized. Edmund nodded and proceeded to introduce himself and Peter, and the surprise in both soldiers faces was similar to the shock that Gwen first encountered when meeting them.

"Kings?" Jack wondered out loud, his brow furrowing. He shot a glance at Gwen and said, "But they're only a myth, aren't they Lt. Colonel? Only a story."

Peter watched Gwen shrug. Her voice was clouded when she answered, like she was in shock at seeing her men, at being close to them. Edmund leaned forward to say something more, but was suddenly cut off when the door of the council room was thrown open and Susan and Lucy made a rather dramatic entrance.

"Peter! Why didn't you summon us? We had no idea that Gwen's friends were here!" Susan flew toward an empty seat and lowered herself into it, her sharp eyes studying the two newcomers critically. Ethan stared at her in something akin to shock.

"Oh, forgive us," Edmund said amiably. "These are our sisters. Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant. They rule alongside us." Lucy smiled gently and sat down beside Gwen on the sofa, looking every bit a part of the room as Susan. The shock of them coming settled abruptly as Peter voiced a question that had been bothering him for quite a while.

"How did you get into Narnia? We must know the exact coordinates." Because if he knew where the portal was, perhaps he could station men around it and take care of these mutated creatures before they became a threat. But Ethan only looked confused, as though he couldn't remember, and beside him Jack had on a similar expression.

"It was near a lake, I think. In the middle of a forest. I can't remember much more than that. I was too confused at finding myself laying in _grass_."

Gwen laughed at this and leaned forward, her eyes dancing in excitement at his sentiment. "It's so different here, isn't it? So perfect. Like heaven." And Ethan nodded in agreement, his mouth quirking up into a hint of a smile as he studied the flushed beauty of Gwen's face. How he had missed her. How he had longed for her during each and every cold desert night.

Then his eyes darkened and he suddenly stood up, feeling restless, overpowered. He turned to Gwen and said, "We've completed our mission, Lt. Colonel, but with many casualties. After you…left, I took over the men."

The light in Gwen's eyes also dimmed. She looked away and asked, "Casualty count?" Because she needed to know, needed to have a number. And she got it, immediately, when Ethan responded with a short, "Half the squad." Half the squad. And the remaining men were somewhere in the desert right now, mustering up their supplies and their courage and wondering how they had lost their Lt. Colonel and their Captain in a series of days.

Gwen swallowed. She remained silent for a moment and then said, "We'll talk about this later, Ethan. For now, our new mission is to rid Narnia of the burden I seem to have given it."

Peter looked at her, surprised at her words. But why would he be? He himself had told her that this was all her fault. He said this to her face. Because he was too afraid to say that it was his fault, that it was his own idleness that had caused this. If he had only looked into the matter before it had escalated into such a great hindrance, then perhaps things would be different. He sighed and looked away, not seeing the glance that Gwen shot at him. Not seeing the guilt in her gaze, or the undercurrent of sadness.

But Ethan saw, and Ethan also saw the strange friction between the High King and his Gwen. And he suddenly began to wonder if she had ever been _his_ Gwen at all, or simply Gwen, unattached and fearless. He looked away, not wanting to pursue his thoughts. A sour, iron taste filled his mouth and his eyes darkened. Foreboding flickered through his body. Then silence.

* * *

_One more chapter, as promised. Will hopefully get another up sooner rather than later, we'll see. Of course, reviews will help inspire me and all that..:D_


	8. Fight

**Soldier 642**

**By:** _CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Status: **_Anxious, conflicted, happy, confused. Hesitant._

**Mission: **_Mission status unable to be transferred at this time. The kings and queens are meeting with their heads of staff in order to figure out the domestic preparations for war. Ethan, Jack, and I wait._

::::

The next two days were spent in a sort of hurry, checking supplies and bolstering the courage of the war effort that was in its beginning stages. Gwen only saw the Pevensies here and there as they rushed from one meeting to another. Their lives intensified with the countless incoming questions and needs. Even Lucy had her appointments to make, her meetings to attend, all centering around the medical units that were expanding and setting up supplies, beds, and crates of food.

Gwen herself was unsure of how to react to this flustering new way of life. On the one hand, she was happy she wasn't involved. She'd met up a few times with Susan and Edmund over the past few days and they both seemed to be exhausted. However, on the other hand, Gwen fiercely wanted to protect Narnia. It was an innate sort of yearning that she couldn't fully explain, only the country felt like a home away from home, and she battled with the desire to be its shield, its powerhouse, its hope. And she couldn't be that if she wasn't allowed into any of the meetings.

Ethan and her spent much time together, with Jack always lingering in the background. He got her caught up on the exact details of when she'd left to the moment he'd entered Narnia. He explained how they'd been in contact with General Six a scare number of times, asking him to send back-up men and supplies. Whether or not he'd gotten the message was unsure, for Ethan had left their company before he could be certain. From then on, he was as hesitant as Jack and Gwen when it came to the wellbeing of their remaining troops.

Ethan and her were just circling the inner courtyard when there was a fairly loud commotion from above and across from them, on the next level. The open hallways allowed them some insight as to what was going on. Apparently another long meeting had just been adjourned, for many old, important looking dwarfs and other strange creatures were leaving the room. Behind them, Edmund appeared, looking worse for wear. He didn't seem to notice Gwen and Ethan. He disappeared around the next corner at a rather fast pace that made them suspect he was late for something.

Gwen frowned mightily, "I wish they'd let me into those meetings. I have no idea as to what's going on!" She kicked at the stone gravel a little, appearing like a pouting child, and Ethan raised his eyebrow at her. He understood her position, though. Being left in the dark wasn't something he appreciated, either.

"Queen Susan told me that the meetings are simply petitions from the heads of staff. No actual war agreements are made there. I'm sure we'd be informed if something like that were to happen," he reassured her, not noticing, at first, the blatant surprise in his companion's eyes.

"Have you been speaking to Susan?" she asked, and he swiveled around to look at her. It was true that Susan and he had been conversing. It had begun quite by accident. He had run into her the other day in one of the hallways after having got himself lost, and she had helped him get out of his predicament. From then on, there had been something amiable between them. Something that called for them to exchange smiles and conversation whenever they were near.

"Uh…yeah. Why are you so surprised by that?" he asked, frowning in confusion. He studied Gwen's bright eyes and waited for her to reply. It didn't take very long.

"It's just that…well, I wouldn't have imagined Susan to take such a liking to you, that's all. She's just a hard woman to get to know," she added hastily, noticing the gleam of mischief that was beginning to form in Ethan's eyes.

"Oh? Are you…_jealous_, Gwen? I suppose I can't blame you, Queen Susan is _very attractive_ - "

"Ethan, shut up!" she hissed at him, staring ahead with a mortified look on her face. He followed her glance and also paled considerably, just now noticing that the woman he was speaking of happened to be directly in front of him and had probably heard everything he'd said. His cheeks flared up with red, but Gwen didn't notice. Her eyes were fixated on the blonde haired king who stood a little bit behind his sister, and the calculating way he looked at her.

Susan immediately took something of a haughty stance, something Gwen recognized as one of her social 'survival' techniques. She stuck her nose into the air and said coolly, "I'm afraid we'll have to finish discussing this at some later time, Peter. I promised Lucy I'd meet her for lunch." She began to walk off, then turned at the last moment and raised an eyebrow at Gwen, "Are you coming, Gwen?" And, not wanting to upset the queen further, Gwen scampered behind her in relief, glad to be rid to the steely blue eyes that watched her leave.

The awkwardness didn't let up with Susan and Gwen's removal, however. Peter stood straight, his back almost completely rigid as he peered down at Ethan. The two men were pretty much the same height, but Peter had many years of practice in the art of intimidation, and Ethan, though also steadfast and unafraid, felt himself cowering away.

"I'd ask that you not speak that way of my sister," Peter said finally, after an excruciatingly long pause between them. His voice was as hard as his eyes, which glittered over Ethan in something akin to dismay. Ethan shifted a little, unsure as to what to say to him, but ultimately couldn't respond anyway because Peter spoke up again. "In Narnian society, it is considered highly rude to treat women like playthings. I assume you are unpracticed in this form of chivalry, considering the way you insist on treating Gwen - "

"Excuse me?" Ethan gaped, frowning mightily at the arrogant king.

" - however," Peter continued, as though Ethan had never spoken at all, "I personally cannot stand for it. In my castle, I ask that you try to be more respectful." And he turned on his heel without another word, storming away and leaving Ethan standing in shock and uncertainty. And that was when the truth suddenly dawned on him. Something bold blossomed in Ethan's chest and he immediately tore after the blonde king, feeling empowered, feeling right.

"You _like_ her!" he accused, ten feet behind Peter. His finger was rather rudely pointed at the king, and when he turned around, Peter scowled.

"What did you say?" he asked, because he didn't really understand what Ethan meant. He _liked_ her? Of course he _liked_ her, he was just defending her _honor_, or at least that was been the basic point in speaking with Ethan. He'd also just wanted to put the soldier in his place, to remind him that he was the High King of an entire country and he was just a man, a number.

Ethan laughed. He shook his head as though he couldn't believe himself, and said, "You're in _love_ with her, aren't you? That's why you always stare at her when you think no one's looking. That's why you can't properly talk to her. Am I right?" But he needn't have even asked, because Ethan could see just how right he was. Peter's expression was an open window into the truth. It was a clear as day, written over his face like a wanton confession.

Peter knew Ethan knew. And the way the soldier had said it, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, made him rather mortified. Did Gwen know? Did his siblings? Before Ethan had so rudely informed him of his apparent affections, _Peter_ hadn't even fully realized it. But now that he thought it over, now that he considered it, it felt somehow…right. Like a bent, mismatched puzzle piece fit into place.

Ethan chuckled again, feeling like he had just put the High King in his place rather than the other way around. It was an empowering feeling, the sort that a person only gets when they face a victory, a win. The prize, in this particular battle, was a green eyed beauty who had stunned them both many times over.

"Let me tell you something, Your Majesty," Ethan said, his voice neutral. But there was an underlying tone to it that screamed out its fierceness, something that immediately pushed Peter into unease. "Gwen could never love a man like you. You simply don't understand her like I do. You've never been to our world, you don't even know who Gwen really is. She's not some girl that can be stuffed into a dress and made into a lady. She's a soldier, a commander. The moment you get that into your head, the better off you'll be."

And then Ethan walked off, leaving Peter standing in the middle of the hallway, shocked and uncertain and yes, a little bit morose. A little bit sorrowful. Because there was truth in those words, too; a truth that Peter didn't really want to face, but knew that he would have to before this ended.

And what an ending it would be.

::::

Meanwhile, Gwen and Susan had made their way into the medical bay, where Lucy was standing with a checklist and a quill, rapidly giving orders and checking them off when they were done. She'd only gone through a third of said list, and already looked very harried. When she saw her sister and Gwen approaching, she immediately dropped the list into the hand's of a nearby nurse and went to them, brightening into a tired smile.

"Gwen, it's nice to see you. How have you been these last two days?" she asked, showing them outside to a little garden area, where tea and sandwiches had been set up. Lucy motioned to one of the servants nearby and asked for another place setting for Gwen, as she hadn't expected to woman to be coming as well.

Gwen shot a quick glance at Susan, who was still cocooned in her 'cool, controlled, calculated' attitude, and took her seat. "I haven't had much to do," she confessed, glancing around the small garden. She'd never been inside of it before, but thought it to be very charming and increasingly beautiful with every passing moment. The garden spanned only a small twenty to thirty foot distance and was fully walled in, save for a small wooden gate that led to what appeared to be another garden, perhaps one of the inner courtyards as they were near enough to them. Flowers of all sorts and colors grew in lovely, mulched soil and a few trees gave them plenty of shade, all the while allowing little dapples of light through the leafy canopy.

Lucy smiled in understanding and reached for a pitcher of what looked to be lemonade. She filled her glass, then Gwen's. When she moved onto Susan's, the gentle queen shook her head and said, "I think I'll have wine instead." Lucy studied her sister's face for a moment before nodding and putting the pitcher down on the grass, for it was rather large to have a place on their small table.

"How has your day been, Lucy?" Gwen asked, not really sure if she should include Susan into the conversation at this time. The proud queen still looked a little cold, though she was thawing little by little in the cool summer breeze.

Lucy responded, "Oh, I've been so busy trying to catalogue everything that needs to be done. You know, in a way the medical unit is even more important than the fighters. And we're grossly underestimated." She reached to fill her plate, frowning a little. The crease of her forehead didn't seem to fit the young seventeen year old, and Gwen rather thought she looked much older than she was. An adult, almost.

Gwen did have some things to add to the current conversation, though she wasn't as well-versed in medical terms as Lucy. She swallowed a bite of her sandwich before saying, "I'm afraid it's like that in my own world, too. However, we have much different ways of treating wounds there. Forgive me if I sound demeaning, but I believe our ways are more advanced."

Lucy didn't look at all upset about the so-called demeaning quality of Gwen's words. Instead, she appeared excited. Her eyes lit up with interest and she immediately said, "I would very much like to know more about these advanced techniques." She was about to say more, but Susan interrupted.

"Do all the men in your world act like callous idiots as well, Gwen?" she wondered in a cold voice, and Gwen almost flinched. She knew, however, that her anger wasn't directed at Gwen herself, but rather at her companion. With this in mind, Gwen leaned forward in earnest. Lucy watched them in interest.

"He truly didn't mean to be rude, Susan," Gwen said, "He was only teasing. It's how he is, how he's always been. Please understand."

It was true. Ethan had always had that mischievous streak in his nature. It was one of the things Gwen liked about him, usually. His ability to shed a lighthearted quality to any conversation made him a respected and admired man, in her eyes. But she knew he could get a little overboard with his teasing, and she cringed to think about what he would have gone on to say had Susan and Peter not been there to stop him.

The thought of Peter made her sigh heavily. She hadn't seen him at all during these last two days. He insisted on taking his meals in his study or at meetings, which he always seemed to be attending. As High King, he had an even heftier work load than his siblings. However, Gwen had hoped that things could go smoother when they'd next met. Those hopes had been dashed when she looked into his eyes and saw only iron walls and stiff, unyielding barriers. He was still blaming her.

"I only wish your brother would let me help," Gwen muttered, withdrawing from Susan with a frown. The two sisters needn't have asked which brother she meant. Only Peter could incite such emotions from within Gwen, though they were sure she hadn't realized this yet. Susan sighed and leaned back, looking like her normal, gentle self as she took a sip of her wine.

"He will," Lucy said, touching Gwen's hand. They exchanged glances and Gwen felt a little better. "It's just that the war council hasn't been able to come up with many strategies, besides that one you've given us. Second and third plans are important and they're at a standstill. But you will be informed when a decision has been made, Gwen," Lucy said, sounding determined. "You have a much greater role in this than you might realize."

Gwen did realize this, in fact. She sighed and nodded, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite. The delicious freshly baked bread infiltrated her senses and she proceeded to enjoy her lunch as conversation moved onto lighter subjects.

Fifteen minutes later, when their plates were cleared and their drinks were finished, Susan stood up. Her fingers smoothed out over the front of her dress. "I'm expected at the Archer's council in ten minutes. We have to review all possible outlets where it is possible to station long distance fighters." She gave them a tired expression. "I shall see you both for dinner, as I'm certain this meeting will take up the rest of my afternoon!" And with a huff that didn't really befit a woman of Susan's standing, the Gentle Queen disappeared from the small gardens.

As soon as she was gone, Lucy turned to Gwen. "My Head Nurse is currently reviewing that blasted list. I don't have another meeting for the day. Would you like to stay here and explain more of those medical techniques?"

Her offer made Gwen smile widely. Together, they stood up and meandered into the medical chambers, all the while talking of a world that Lucy could scarcely imagine.

::::

It wasn't until much later, just before dinner was held, that Gwen discovered any pertinent information regarding strategies. After her chat with Lucy in the medical bay, Gwen had meandered through the castle by herself for the remaining hours before dinner, deep in thought. She'd tried to put herself in Peter's position, a place that she understood fairly well as she led a contingent of men herself. Though much, much different, there was a thread of similarity that prompted her to do this, made her want to see into Peter's life, into his hardships, into his decisions.

From this thought process, Gwen began shuffling ideas through her mind. What would she do if she was in a life or death situation out in the desert? After checking her supplies, she would probably get to the safest place she could find. Then she would reassess her situation. Could she go into another battle with the remaining supplies and men or did she have to retreat to a safer distance? She then put two and two together, that is her life in the desert as leader of Sub-unit 16, and her life here. Here, she also had limited supplies. Her first decision would have been, therefore, to change that.

Supplies included ammunition, food, and medical kits. She had food and she had medical backup. She didn't have ammunition. She paused by one of the large windows that spanned the ceiling to the floor, and frowned. How could she get ammunition? The first tide of the war depended on her, Ethan, and Jack. To win, she needed bullets. To make bullets, she needed empty shells and lead and fire. Things that Narnia surely had, and things that she could gather as well.

"Gwen!"

She turned, watching Ethan come into view. Jack was behind him. She raised an eyebrow at the out of breath manner in which they ran up to her.

"The High King has requested our presence in his office. I think he means to speak to us about our part in this war, Lt.," Jack grinned. Gwen nodded and immediately followed them. Two entire days had passed them by without any sort of important information, and now that she was walking right into said information, Gwen wasn't sure if she wanted to go. Of course, she supposed her reluctance could also have to do with a certain king, but she was altogether unsure.

They walked the short distance to the Northern Tower, where the High King's personal rooms and offices were. Halfway there, a dwarf-guard intercepted them and told them that he would show them the way to the High King's 'sitting room' or whatever it was he called it. Regardless, Gwen was pleased because she'd never been to the Northern Tower or even anywhere near it, and the hallways were a jumbled mess to her.

After walking down what seemed like dozens of stone pathways, the dwarf guide finally gestured to a tall wooden door. Two imposing half-creature half-human guards stood on either side of it, holding pikes.

"Your Majesties, here are the sons and daughters of Eve you requested," the dwarf said in a gravelly voice, and then dismissed himself, scurrying back down the way he'd come. Gwen peered inside, sweeping her eyes over unfamiliar furniture and deep blue silks that were spread over the room. Though it was an office, it was luxurious in a way Gwen hadn't expected. The upholstery on the chairs had golden and blue threads dancing together and there seemed to be real gold paint on the pillars.

"Gwen, come in," Peter said, looking up at her. She was taken aback by the casual way he spoke to her, and entered the room stiffly, unsure as to what she should say. Edmund, Susan, and Lucy were spread out in the room as well. Lucy on the couch, Susan by the windows, and Edmund near his brother as they sat by his desk. His desk, by the way, was just as decorative as the rest of the room: a sweeping mahogany that shone like the night sky and tapered into what looked like lion paws at the four legs.

Ethan and Jack, having not been directly spoken to, followed Gwen slowly. Ethan frowned a little at the apparent slight and went to stand beside Gwen. He watched Peter's eyes flash before the High King looked away, down to the map that he'd laid out for him and Edmund to pour over.

"I'm pleased you could all come," Edmund said, smiling a little at Gwen. He hadn't seen the young woman at all in the last few days, a matter that had been something of a disappointment. Gwen and Edmund had gotten along swimmingly thus far, like siblings. He'd missed her. "Won't you sit down? We thought it best to inform you of the recent battle decisions."

Gwen immediately took a seat on one of the long, plush couches across from Peter's desk. These couches also had the matching golden threads, weaving here and there, in and out of sight like a game of tag. She studied them for a moment before glancing back up. Her eyes met Peter's and she pushed down a blush at the thought that he'd been watching her. The look in his eyes was not what she'd expected, either. There was no anger, no annoyance, just calm, collected emotion. And warmth. Quite a lot of warmth behind that cool façade.

Ethan took a seat beside Gwen and threw his arm casually over the back of the couch. He glanced at Peter with a smirk that Gwen didn't notice, but it made the High King silently furious. It made Ethan only amused.

"The final plans have been laid out," Peter began in a calm voice, as though he'd dealt with war plenty of times in the past and it was merely an inconvenience now. He threaded his fingers together and said, "We make for the Lantern Waste in two days. We've decided to post you in the Second Unit with the archers. This will give you plenty of distance to make use of."

The words were spoken in such an isolated way that Gwen couldn't help but stare at him. She'd never really considered Peter to be a king before. Well, of course she knew that he was, that all of his siblings were royalty, but it didn't feel like they were. They felt like friends, that was all. But now, as Gwen stared into eyes that weren't steely any longer, but rather regal and commanding, she rather thought that Peter was something out of a myth. One of the castle stories her mother used to regale to her before bed, about men who wore iron and wielded steel.

His eyes flickered to hers and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. Her heart crashed suddenly against her chest, her veins seemed to burst into flames. She could see only blue, bright and vibrant and staring at her in the warmth again, that fire that seemed to be trying to tell her something. And then…

"Well, that's a relief. I'm glad things are finally starting to happen," Ethan said. He could see the connection between Gwen and Peter and he didn't like it, not at all. He would shatter it with everything he had, if only to prove to Peter that Gwen was his, and she'd always been his and that he wasn't going to let her go very easily. Peter glanced at him and they shared a tense moment.

Susan turned to Ethan and raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn't blind, and neither was Lucy, who was also studying the way Ethan seemed to be leaning into Gwen, as though protecting her. The only one who seemed not to notice was Gwen herself.

"Well," Susan said, appearing rigid because Ethan was in the room. She wasn't sure what to think of him. He was easy to talk to, fun to be around, but now every time she looked at him she thought about the words he'd said. She wasn't altogether surprised that he found her attractive. She was widely regarded as the most lovely woman in Narnia and the surrounding kingdoms, after all. What she didn't like was her own reaction to those words, and the hot feeling she experienced when thinking of them. It was inexplicable and even a little annoying. "I suppose that was all we wished to say. Begin your personal preparations, as we won't be returning to Cair Paravel for quite a few weeks."

Ethan nodded and stood, smoothing out the tunic he'd been forced to wear that morning. Gwen and Jack followed suit, walking to the door. But then Gwen turned suddenly, skirts swishing around her legs for a wild instant before settling again. Peter raised an eyebrow at her and she asked, "Do you happen to have undiluted traces of tin, antimony, and lead?"

For a moment, her question was met only with surprised silence. And then Jack nodded and muttered, "Of course!" And Gwen glanced at Edmund, who seemed to be the most knowledgeable about firearms, and said, "We'll need to press our own ammunition. We currently have only a limited supply of bullets."

Comprehension dawned on their faces. Edmund nodded and stood, "If you make a list, I'll have everything you need delivered to your quarters before the end of the day."

Gwen nodded, and turned. She had a lot of work to do if she wanted to be ready to leave in time.

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_Review ~ PM ~ Etc. please :)_


	9. Of Warfare

**Soldier 642**

**By: **_CrashingPetals_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Status**_**: **__Better. Though Ethan seems troubled for a reason unknown._

**Mission: **_We will be leaving the tomorrow morning for the Lantern Waste, where the mutants seem to have been entering Narnia. My new mission is to make as much ammunition as possible in the short time remaining._

**Notes: **_For future reference: antimony is found only in it's raw form in Narnia. It has proved very difficult to make use of._

::::

The process of making homemade ammunition was something every soldier in Unit 73 innately knew. It was something they were taught in boot camp, during their first years as cadets. It was a survival technique the went hand in hand with making a fire without flint, and learning what plants were poisonous if the canned food ran out. So it was with practiced grace that Gwen leaned over the fire in one of the empty offices, tools and materials haphazardly piled around her as she watched the melted concoction with steady eyes.

She wasn't entirely alone, for Susan sat with her, watching in interest as Gwen occasionally stirred the close to boiling liquid. The young queen had found her about an hour before, not with any particular agenda. She'd simply wanted to watch a process she knew nothing about. Surprisingly, at least to Gwen, it seemed to interest Susan greatly.

"Do you think they'll be ready in time?" Susan wondered idly, flipping a page in her book as she glanced up at Gwen. She'd brought the tome along, reading in the sparse candlelight that flickered around the darkened room.

Gwen shrugged her small shoulders, squinting at the piping hot materials, "They should be. They harden surprisingly quickly. And with Ethan and Jack doing the same thing, we should have plenty of ammunition by the morning."

Still, Susan's brow wrinkled. "You should get some sleep, Gwen. I know you haven't been sleeping properly. Can't you do this tomorrow in the daylight?"

But Gwen was already shaking her head before Susan had already completed her words, and already had an answer on her tongue. "I want to make sure the metal loses it's malleability. If there's not enough tin and antimony, then the lead could be too soft and I'd have to start over. So actually, I need all the time I can get." Besides, she thought, working late didn't bother her. She liked the night, especially in Narnia when the stars were even more beautiful than they were in the desert.

Susan hummed a little, seeming to understand, and allowed the silence to linger. She watched with mild curiosity as Gwen began stacking what looked like empty bullet shells. They were huge, nearly the length of her palm, and had the thickness of one of her fingers. Gwen faced them all in a line, tip to the ground. She'd acquired some sort of wooden contraption with holes that she'd hollowed out herself. Other wooden 'containers' littered the floor surrounding her.

When Gwen donned a pair of thick leather gloves, Susan leaned forward. The leather wouldn't have been Gwen's first choice, but in Narnia, there didn't exist any other materials she would have found in her own world. Her own pair of protective rubber-based gloves were sitting in her knapsack, somewhere in the desert, likely to never be seen again. She'd have to make do.

"Are you sure that's safe-?" Susan was in the middle of asking, when Gwen took what looked like a metal candle-douser and dipped it into the melted liquid. It came out glowing hotly, filled with the lead and would soon be molded into bullets. Gwen remained silent, intent on keeping her hands as steady as possible, and then she very gently began the precise task of filling the empty shells.

It took her almost five entire minutes to fill only 10 shells. The process was slow, too important to muck up with hasty movements. She didn't want to spill any scorching liquid metal, as the results would be disastrous and just plain wasteful. Materials were limited and she couldn't afford that.

She continued to work in silence, occasionally reaching over to stir the small pot of lead and its other components, and was therefore surprised at the reminder that Susan was still in the room.

"Gwen?" she wondered, never taking her eyes off those hands that worked so diligently. Gwen grunted a little to show she was listening, and Susan continued in a hesitant voice, "You're very close to Ethan, aren't you?"

Whatever it was Gwen had been expecting, it hadn't been a insightful comment regarding her personal life. The young soldier glanced up in surprise and confusion, no doubt wondering why Ethan had so suddenly been dragged into the conversation, especially when Susan had looked down on him since his callous words regarding her beauty.

"Uh…yeah, I guess. We've known each other since we were toddlers. Why?" she asked, turning back to the painstaking job at hand. She found that talking and working at the same time didn't really make a difference in the steadiness she showed.

She heard Susan sigh a little and her confusion skyrocketed. "It's just that…Ethan and Peter don't seem to be getting along very well. I was wondering if you had anything to say on the subject." Honestly, Susan thought, Gwen was so thick sometimes. It was obvious that she didn't understand the extent of Peter's affection for her, if one could even call it that. Not that Susan blamed her. Peter was so stupid when it came to professing emotion. He could never just come out and admit something, he had to complicate things and make Gwen think he hated her. She sighed again.

Gwen frowned, answering with a simple, "I'm not sure. I mean, Ethan's always been protective of me. He treats me like the sister he's never had. He's an only child," she added, much to Susan's surprise. Did Gwen really not see _Ethan's_ affections either? Susan understood how she was in the dark about Peter, but Ethan too? She raised her eyebrows and studied her strange, soldier friend.

Her twisted, wavy hair was messy, as though she'd just pulled herself out of bed. She hadn't, of course, and Susan knew that Gwen probably hadn't slept in the last 24 hours alone. As a result, there were bags beneath her eyes and bruised shadows forming around the lids. Perhaps now wasn't a good time to discuss Gwen's lack of love life. Perhaps, Susan frowned, it wasn't even her place to question it.

But she had seen the way Peter looked at Gwen, and she'd seen the way Gwen looked at Peter. Even if Gwen didn't fully understand it yet, the tension was there. It was, and Susan almost cringed at the cliché way this sounded, as if they were made for one another. And Ethan was just in the way…and Susan didn't want him to like Gwen. Strange, that she'd think that way with no basis whatsoever. But she didn't like it, didn't like seeing Ethan stare at Gwen with those bright, burning eyes. Didn't like the way they were so amiable towards each other.

It was a gentle sort of jealousness that befitted a gentle queen.

As though being mentally called, the moment was shattered with Ethan's own appearance, which was so sudden and unexpected that Susan almost jumped out of her seat. Her thoughts turned sour once again and she looked at him, standing in the doorway with that jaunty grin and staring at Gwen with those untroubled, bright eyes. How dare he, Susan thought, and she was immediately reminded of those words he'd spoken about her.

_'Queen Susan is very attractive…' _They ran through her mind like a vice and she had to forcefully push down the blush that threatened to invade her pale cheeks.

Gwen hadn't noticed Ethan until he called out for her. When her name left his lips, she glanced up in surprise and, as a result of the quick movement, some of the liquid metal spilt over the edge of the candle-douser and a drop quivered over her hand. She yelped a little, pain written over her expression, and drew back.

"Gwen! Jeez, I didn't think you'd jump like that. Are you ok?" Ethan rushed over, casting a glance at Susan as he knelt beside his Lt. The liquid metal was hurriedly placed back into the pot and a moment later, Ethan had gathered Gwen up into his arms and was inspecting her hand, which was blazing with the small third degree burn.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Gwen insisted, caught a little by surprise at Ethan's sudden proximity. She wasn't sure why he was so worried over something so small. It wasn't like she was dying or anything. Her eyes narrowed up at him and he drew back a bit, as though just now realizing the way his arms had slipped around her. "You can let me go now," she told him, and he did so with a small blush that also surprised Gwen, for she'd never seen Ethan blush before. Strange.

Susan couldn't believe her eyes. She'd never thought Gwen was thick in any way, but now she was just being downright stupid. How could she not see the affection in her friend's eyes? But what was plain to Susan was muddy to Gwen, having never experienced romance in any form. She did seem to find Ethan's behavior odd, but seemed to brush it off a moment later.

"It's fine, I'll just put some medium-strength ointment on it and it'll clear up in no time - " she stumbled over her words, suddenly remembering that they were in Narnia, not the desert. They didn't have medium-strength ointment or advanced med kits. "Oh, damn," she muttered, and Ethan chuckled a little at the crestfallen expression on her face.

"This is all your fault!" she glared at him, standing up. "You surprised me in the middle of _this_." She waved her hand around, gesturing at the unfinished job she had been in the middle of doing. Then she turned back to Ethan with a wild, brilliant look in her eye and said, "You finish this up while I go get something to put on this."

Ethan just shrugged and watched her leave, his eyes following her every movement until she was completely out of sight. And then, turning back to the equipment that Gwen had set up, he seemed to remember that he was not, in fact, alone. That Queen Susan was still perched atop the couch, staring at him with that air of practiced annoyance.

"Uh…look, Queen Susan," he said, unsure as to how to proceed but knowing that something had to be done. Ever since she'd overheard him say those words, truthful as they were, she'd put up something of a barrier between them. No more amiable smiles or conversations or anything, really, except cold eyes that made him shiver more than he cared to admit. He stumbled over his next words, "I'm…I would like to apologize for the words I said about you. I...um…it was out of place and - "

"You take them back, then?" Susan asked, chin up as she looked at him. It didn't help that he towered over her when they were both standing up, but in her sitting position he struck quite an imposing figure. No matter, Susan thought, watching him grasp blindly for his apology.

"Uh, yes!" he said, realizing that she seemed to be giving him a way out. He was about to heave a sigh of relief, but then…

"So you mean to say that I am _not_ attractive?" she asked him haughtily, raising one pertinent eyebrow to annunciate her rather provocative words. She pressed down an amused smirk when his mouth fell open.

"No, that's not what I - damn, you're a hard woman to please, you know that?"

"You haven't yet answered my question," she responded airily, turning back to her book.

He shifted, for a split second, before changing his course. Ethan happened to handle social situations very well, much better than Gwen. He enjoyed arguments. He enjoyed arguing with Queen Susan.

"Well then, if you demand a response, yes, I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

Shocked silence. It drifted through the dimmed atmosphere like a cloud, integrating throughout the room slowly, gently, suddenly taking Susan very much off guard. Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it hadn't been that. She felt a horrendous blush begin to spread over her cheeks and was thankful for the dim lighting. Whether Ethan could see that blush, she didn't know. A smirk wound its way over his lips and he chuckled deeply, lowly at her.

And yet, somehow it wasn't enough.

"_One_ of the most beautiful women?" Susan asked callously, pleased that her voice was neither shaky or unsure. She was a Queen of Narnia, she couldn't afford to allow this soldier from another world get the better of her! She watched Ethan raise an eyebrow at the question.

"Well, yes. I happen to find many women beautiful. There are a number of beautiful women in this castle." He didn't seem to notice the way she bristled at this. "I have eyes like any other man."

They were words that Susan didn't like hearing, for a reason that was altogether unknown to her. Why should she even care if this man looked at other women? She didn't like having her beauty compared to that of a common maid, or diplomat, or castle worker. She didn't like to hear how Ethan had been looking at those common maids, didn't like the thought of those dark eyes examining the contours of another woman's body. That strange, gentle jealousness began to burn through her again. She stood, shutting her book.

When she turned to Ethan, he was taken aback at how her eyes shone so brilliantly in the firelight. For some reason, he hadn't noticed her beauty before this moment, not in such a dramatic manner. But she suddenly seemed to be lovelier than even Gwen.

"I shall leave you to your work," Susan told him, voice a little stiff. The barrier had gone back up and Ethan was sad to know that. She was a challenge for him, a woman that was hard to get to know. Someone who seemed to be constantly moving away from him with every step he took toward her. Even in the short time he knew her, he felt this.

He watched her leave in much the same manner as he'd watched Gwen leave minutes before, eyes ducking over her figure idly. She moved in a way Gwen didn't. Even her skirts swished with grace. Ethan found himself pushing down a very sudden, very unexpected desire to hold her in his arms just like he'd held Gwen, close to his chest and his lips and his heart.

::::

The next day passed in a sort of blur. Gwen mostly spent the first couple hours attending to the bullets she'd pressed the night before. Ethan and Jack stayed with her, readying their guns. They polished them till the dark metal gleamed, and loaded the still-hardening bullets into satchels that they'd carry at their waists. The bullets were hard enough, but it would take another day still before they'd lose any sign of malleability. They'd managed to create dozens of them, enough to keep an entire regiments on its feet. Jack, especially, had done his job well. He seemed to be knowledgeable about a wide range of subjects, not just treating wounds and sharp shooting, but also chemistry. He was both competent and able, a fact that made Gwen feel much more comfortable about their upcoming battle.

They spent most of the day in Gwen's sitting room attending to their weapons. But as the afternoon dragged later, a knock sounded at Gwen's door. She opened it, expecting to see Susan or Edmund or Lucy, but instead there was a small dwarf. He peered up at her through flinty, darkened eyes that reminded her of coal, and then said in a gravely voice, "You've been summoned to the last war council, my Lady. High King Peter has personally requested your presence, and your comrade's."

Gwen blinked, frowning. She had thought the plans were gone over yesterday in Peter's office. When she voiced this, the dwarf raised a furry black eyebrow and grunted, "This is the official council meeting. It is to inform the nobles of the plans and go over last minute preparations, my Lady." And he said her appointed title with an air of dignified aggravation, as though he didn't think she deserved it. She frowned all the fiercer.

"Fine," she said, and then turned to look over her shoulder at her two comrades. "High King Peter has requested our presence at the final war council." Ethan and Jack glanced at each other and then back at Gwen, who rolled her eyes in impatience. "Bring your weapons. I have a feeling there's a reason that Peter has summoned us before all of his nobles."

Ethan scowled a little at her familiar usage of Peter's name but remained silent. He stood up hoisted his sniper rifle over his shoulder. His revolver he shoved into the deep pocket of his trousers. Jack followed suit, and then the three of them exited the sitting room and followed the dwarf down the hall.

It was in this fashion that they entered the war council, which was already in full swing. Many loud voices were arguing back and forth, but everything fell silent at the soldiers' entry. Peter, who was in the process of massaging a headache away, looked relieved to see them.

Gwen walked to an empty seat and sat down, ignoring the stares and the gaping mouths. The nobles were no doubt wondering why a woman was in the war council. Especially a woman who was so rude and who took a seat without being directed to it first. But Gwen didn't care to be dignified. Though she wore traditional Narnian garb, she wasn't a Narnian. And she certainly didn't fear what these nobles thought of her.

Ethan didn't, either. He fell into the chair beside Gwen and dropped his heavy sniper rifle on the table, followed by his smaller military issued revolver. Jack propped his up against the table instead and sat down with a little more finesse. But still, the sight of the guns sent the council into a few fit of terror, fueled by more loud voices and arguments that made Gwen's head spin.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"How dare you dirty this peaceful room with the devil's weapons!"

"This is a war council! Get this woman out of here! She's no business trifling in matters of the state!"

"How can the king sit by and allow - "

"Silence!" Peter bellowed, surprising Gwen with his sudden display of power. He looked fierce, and had gotten to his feet in the commotion. He was leaning over the table, his eyes moving to each noble as they immediately quieted down. One single word, and he commanded their attention. Just one simple little word. It made Gwen feel a little dizzy.

Peter straightened out, but his expression remained set in grim determination, his eyes blazing forth with power. He addressed his nobles calmly, all traces of his exclamation gone from his voice as it smoothly glided over the room. "I have personally summoned these soldiers to the council. The plans have already been made up and will not be changed. I've assembled this meeting simply to inform you all of what's expected of you, not to argue over whether my decision is right or wrong."

His words rang throughout the thick silence, and Gwen couldn't look away from him. She suddenly felt drawn to him in a way she hadn't before. She felt a sort of admiration and loyalty well up within her. She felt a sudden urge to pledge allegiance to him, to allow him to be her king as well, in all things. The intensity of her emotions made shocked her, and yet she couldn't toss them away or bury them.

"…My king," one of the nobles, an older faun began. He shifted under Peter's gaze and said, "I apologize. But I simply do not understand why this woman will be allowed to fight alongside us. Is it not wiser to protect her within the castle itself, to keep her with Queen Susan and Queen Lucy and - ?"

"The Lady Gwen has been trained in combat and is very knowledgeable in warfare. It would be foolish to keep her locked up in this castle when she could do more good out in the field." Peter shifted his eyes to Gwen's, and she inhaled sharply at the sight of gaze, so dark and empowered and directed solely on her. She felt her cheeks flare up in a light blush. Peter continued, "But this was the reason I invited Gwen and her comrades to the council. I wish for her to remove all the doubts you all possess." He nodded at Gwen and told her, "A demonstration of your skill, if you please, my Lady."

She swallowed thickly and Ethan nudged his revolver toward her. They exchanged a short glance and she sat up straighter, curling her fingers around the trigger. With her thumb, she pressed the safety switch off, then leaned back again into her previous, lazy position.

The faun frowned and said, "Surely my Lady doesn't intend to use that thing in a council mee - "

BANG.

BANG BANG. BANG.

Silence, thick and heavy and frightened. The noble's faces were aghast with horror as they stared at Gwen, who leaned back further and switched the safety switch back on. Then she place the revolver delicately onto the table and shifted it back towards Ethan before looking at her handiwork. The faun's head was silhouetted on the wall behind him, four bullets having torn through the wood on each side of his head. The faun himself was sitting with baited breath, eyes wide and trembling with terror. After a very long moment, he sunk into his chair, gripping the armrests tightly, the veins of his arms and neck jutting out as his body coiled up on himself. Unharmed he was, but so taken aback in his shock that he remained steadfastly silent for the remainder of the meeting, short as it was.

Peter stared at Gwen, too, though his face was unreadable. Perhaps he was shocked, too, at the level of her skill. Perhaps at her audacity. But regardless, he was impressed. And he stood up a moment later, eyes intently watching her. She slowly looked back at him, blinking curiously, cattishly, as though she too was surprised at herself.

"Well," Peter nodded, the hint of a smile edging over his lips. "I believe that will be all. I shall leave my brother to further discuss your personal roles and the remainder of the plans. If you three wish to stay, you may do so. Otherwise you have my permission to return to your quarters."

And then the High King was sweeping from the room, and Gwen was staring after him and wondering blindly why his gaze had so affected her. Why her heart was beating so very quickly and why her cheeks felt red and warm, and why she suddenly felt the furious desire to lay down all her defenses and allow him into her every thought, her every desire, her every desperate wish.

* * *

_Thank you for the lovely reviews! I'm glad people seem to appreciate the post-apocalyptic-ness of the story! It's definitely a weird combo, haha. I'm going to TRY to update at least twice a month during the fall semester. Hopefully I'll be able to live up to that. If not, feel free to yell at me through a review :D_

_Reviews will undoubtedly push me to update sooner, of course~_

_Oh! And by the way, you WILL LOVE the next chapter. That's all I'm gonna say. ;)_


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